


Tea For Two

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Series: Camellia sinensis [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Eddie Izzard references, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Protective Bruce, Tea, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:47:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 124,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the many things Bruce Banner picked up on his (admittedly unchosen) travels around the world was a love of tea. Now back in New York, and living in Avengers tower, it's one of the little habits that he's brought with him, and one of the ways he makes sure to have a little personal time. Tea is an oasis of calm in the middle of a life which is far from routine. Gradually, though, the team start to need that little oasis of calm too, and one by one, time after time, they come and talk to Bruce, just to find some space to think, and sometimes for a little gentle advice, or a push in the right direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

Doctor Bruce Banner had never really had much trust in people. After all, if you couldn't trust your parents, who could you trust? It hadn't really given him much option. But that hadn't necessarily limited him as he grew older and made friends, his own age, and a few older, and discovered that he seemed to have a natural talent for putting people at ease. It had been his shoulder that people came to cry on throughout high school and college, though few of the girls had ever considered him as anything more than a friend. Boys too, when faced with difficulty, found it all too easy to spill everything out to him where they hardly spoke to others. 

He had counselled people through many things, and then it had all gone so horribly wrong... he had fled, and made another life... even when he had returned, and lost that promised hope which had been so snatched away, survived the betrayal which had all but shattered his trust... he travelled, and had spent a lot of time travelling. Brazil, India, China, Russia... mainland Europe, when he had been younger, when he had been respected not feared. It was too easy to be found in most places like that. So he stayed off the radar, although that world was beginning to open up to him once more. 

Despite everything, he hadn't lost his skill with people. On his travels he had formed friendships, bonds, even. It had been unavoidable, with the trust that people in places like that put in doctors like him; they had paid for his knowledge with their own. He had learned many things, meditation, yoga... different kinds of both. He had been taught calligraphy in China... and in a village in the mountains of India, he had been taught about tea. That knowledge had been expanded in China, too, and he had taken in everything they had taught him... what was good for what time in the day, the different blends and flavours, the degrees of fermentation, the health benefits, too. He loved learning, and it certainly wasn't a chore to him to pick these things up. 

It had become a passion, and one that did not diminish by the time he joined the Initiative and moved into the Avengers Tower, as it was now known. One of the few things he had brought back with him when Natasha had summoned him from Calcutta, albeit possibly slightly less... calmly than he would have liked his return to have been, was a tea chest he had been given in China. It was wooden, and flat, rather than the traditional kind, and housed, in rows, bags of different teas he had collected over the years.

It had been hard when returning to Western life to track down suppliers for them, especially the special blends he liked, but eventually, with a lot of hard work and the help of Jarvis, he had been able to maintain and even expand his collection. It was something that took time and patience, both to brew properly, and to appreciate. It suited him well, and he made sure to take the time at least once a day to settle down with something special, whether it was a new blend he had never tried before, or an old favourite; something soothing, or invigorating. 

He spent a lot of time in the lab these days - Tony hadn't been overselling it when he had called the R&D department Candyland. He had given Bruce his own lab, and a budget to work with which was more or less limitless. The instruments had come with the lab, too, so unlike most occasions, the budget wouldn't be entirely wiped out simply by buying the kit he needed. It wasn't entirely surprising given that this was Stark Industries, but the specialist equipment had to be bought in anyway. What he couldn't buy and still needed he knew he could speak to Tony about if necessary. 

It was sort of strange to be back in such a regular routine after so long on the run, in culture after culture that was not his own, learning different languages, trying to get by, to blend in. He had thought that the world of academia and research was lost to him completely, but Tony had given that back to him, just like he had given them all their lives back in different ways. He missed the old life, but he had missed this one for far longer, and when the siren sounded for the team to assemble he never failed to suit up and go out with them. It wasn't what he had dreamed of as a child, but then Hulk had never been in anyone's plans. He was still helping people though, that was what he took from it all. It wasn't as direct as it had once been, although he treated the team, provided he was in a fit enough state to, and his research would move towards saving more lives than he ever could have touched as a doctor. This way Hulk could help too, protecting the Earth on what Bruce was sure was a far more regular basis than would usually be expected. 

He had forgotten what it was like to live in close quarters with people like he did now, and to feel almost like he was part of some dysfunctional family. Even now it seemed he still had his magic touch with people, and no matter how he planned his day to have some personal space, some quiet time to order his thoughts, some weeks, it just didn't seem to happen. And the strange thing was, he honestly didn't mind a moment of it.


	2. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is the first person to interrupt Bruce's quiet time...

It was Steve who found him first, Steve who knocked nervously on the door to the little living room on Bruce's floor, looking like he was absolutely certain he would be denied entrance but equally more crestfallen than Bruce had ever seen him before. Bruce knew crestfallen, he knew it very well, and the fear of imminent rejection was equally familiar. He sighed to himself slightly, all too aware that the kettle was slowly boiling, but he waved the Captain in nonetheless and indicated for him to take a seat.

"I hope I'm not intruding..." even now, he was adorably polite, conscious of this being Bruce's domain, that he might be interrupting something. It was something Bruce couldn't help but find incredibly endearing. It was like the Captain's ego had stayed the same size as the man he had once been rather than growing to match the man he had become. It would make sense if the serum magnified everything inside that as well as his courage, it might have magnified self-effacing tendencies. Although Steve didn't back down from fights, Bruce suspected he might subconsciously have found ways of making himself smaller at times in an attempt to avoid causing inconvenience to other people. 

"No, not at all..." he hesitated then decided to make the offer since the water had boiled anyway, "I was about to make some tea. Would you like some?"

Steve nodded mutely, still shifting awkwardly in a way that, although Bruce was sure was meant to be subtle, still broadcasted the fact that he had come with an ulterior motive and felt immensely guilty about the fact that he wasn't there entirely altruistically to spend time with a friend.

Bruce tilted his head slightly, watching Steve and taking in the little nuances of body language - and of course the emotions written clear as day across his face - to consider what tea might be best for him. Green tea, that would be a good start. Something simple, flavoured a little maybe, and refreshing. Something to lighten the mood... his hand settled on his morroccan mint blend, and he measured the right amount into the cast iron teapot, checking the temperature of the water and settling it to steep. The steam billowed up a little as he poured, and Steve took a deep sniff, making a soft noise of surprise. 

"That smells really nice... your teapot is really... uh... pretty, where's it from?"

"Well, actually it's from China, but... I think it's Japanese originally. It's cast iron, so it does get very hot, mind your fingers." He knew that Steve healed, it wasn't exactly a secret, and after all he did too, after a transformation, but it was still natural to him to give the warning. The prevention of pain was his job after all.

Steve nodded, and stared as Bruce lifted out two glasses, more beautiful and delicate than anything he had expected the doctor to own. He hastily amended that mentally - of course he meant because Bruce had travelled so much and fragile things rarely lasted well under such circumstances. It had nothing to do with his alter ego. Although Steve had been initially sceptical, he had come to know Hulk better, they all had, as they had come to learn the quiet scientist who was the other side of the coin. He felt bad for the assumption but still... he ran a finger gently over the glass Bruce had placed in front of him, admiring it, wary of unintentionally shattering it. It was one of those moments where he felt intrinsically awkward, about his size, his strength, everything which still felt so alien to him. He still felt like the little boy from Brooklyn driving an oversized man suit sometimes, and it made him a little clumsy. 

Bruce poured the tea and cupped the glass in his hands, inhaling the steam for a long moment and gazing into the middle distance, centring himself before taking the first sip and setting his glass down, shifting to angle himself towards Steve and make himself more comfortable. He was conscious of keeping his posture open to invite Steve to broach whatever it was that was so obviously on his mind. 

While Bruce had set his glass carefully down, Steve continued to cup his close, seemingly mesmerised by the twirling, weaving, dancing steam that rose, mint scented, from the cup. 

"Bruce... I...," he hesitated for a long moment, seemingly transfixed once more by the vapour, rather than coming out with whatever it was he had to say, "...I was wondering if I could have your advice on something... you're... at least a man of this time, and you probably have more experience with this kind of thing than me anyway, so... uh..."

This sounded familiar. It had been a long time but Bruce had heard similar starts to confessions many times before. He was touched that Steve had decided to come to him and he decided that he rather liked the feeling of being the one trusted to give advice, to provide a listening ear on things that weren't simple medical problems. It gave him a purpose, a role within the team as himself that was not reliant upon what he could become. He didn't know if it would become a regular thing but... now that the thought had crossed his mind, it tugged a little smile to his lips. He didn't know if it would become a regular thing, but if it did, he honestly couldn't say he would mind.

Steve's eyes flicked up as if seeking judgement and, finding none, he continued, apparently finding his cup of tea much more fascinating than Bruce himself. 

"...I hear that things are very different in this day and age to how they used to be. Especially when it comes to relationships... love and things like that. Dating especially. I don't understand how... anyway. So. Say... there was someone I liked... how would you... recommend I go about... well, uh... letting them know?"

Bruce had to admit that he was a little taken aback. It was what he'd anticipated more or less, but still... this was Steve Rogers. Captain America. Adorably naif as to the world in which he now found himself. Bruce wasn't stupid enough to think of Steve as innocent - the man had been a soldier for crying out loud, and seen action. He had seen violence, death, blood... the dark side of the human soul, and some of the worst that humans could do to one another. He had gotten used to the modern world surprisingly quickly, and carefully worked to adjust himself where he could. Sometimes Bruce thought it would be better if the world adjusted to Steve, rather than the other way around. Both of them, though, were resigned to the fact that that would never happen, so Bruce occasionally did what he could to make the transition a little easier on the man by never treating any question as if it was stupid. 

The idea that Captain America had such little experience in the romantic arena was... even more endearing than he had expected. 

"Alright, well... I guess the best way for one thing is to be polite. Make them feel special. Be courteous to them, like you are anyway, I suppose. Pay them compliments. It's important for anyone you like to be their friend before you become anything more, really. You both need to understand what you're getting into."

He hesitated and nodded, taking a sip of his tea again in attempt to hide his nervousness. 

"Alright, I get that, that seems all well and good. But... uh... Doctor... I... uh... say the person I liked was... not... female... would that be a problem?"

In all honesty, he would have loved to have pretended to be surprised. He would have loved to. But he couldn't quite manage it. The entire team had been aware of what had been developing between Steve and Tony. In fact, he was pretty sure that an ostrich with its head in the sand would have been more aware than either of the two men involved. This felt like a considerable step forward. 

"No. Honestly Captain? No, it wouldn't. Some people still have a problem with it, sure, but it's not a taboo, at all. Gay couples live their lives openly for the most part, in this country at least. Some parts of the world still aren't that free. But no, it wouldn't be a problem."

Steve was still intent on his tea, staring at it as though it were a particularly uncooperative subject for a drawing, carefully considering everything Bruce was saying. 

"Okay... so... I... I've been trying to be nice to them for a long time... I mean, I admit I screwed up when we met, but... I've been trying to make up for that, because he proved everything I thought about him... assumed about him I guess, he proved that wrong. The world is very different to what it used to be and he's very much a man of this time rather than my time. He's not really... I don't know what to get him. As, like, little courting gifts, I mean. He has... everything. And flowers would... well, he rarely remembers food or sleep for himself, so I don't think he'd be likely to remember some flowers. I mean... do you... have any ideas?"

"Maybe find out what grade oil he uses on Dummy's joints..." was Bruce's first suggestion, gently made with a smile curving his lips. He couldn't quite manage not to say anything about it anymore, and if Steve could confirm that it was Tony he liked then it would mean he had said it out loud to himself and affirmed it, and also meant that Bruce wasn't completely shooting in the dark or making hypotheses based on what was admittedly a great deal of empirical evidence. "You know the bots are like children to him really. We're lucky he lets us see them, play with them. They're precious to him in a way I don't think anything else really is, and Dummy was the first. You could sketch him something too, or paint him a little picture maybe. Something personal. The man who has everything needs things that money can't buy. And money can't buy the kind of things that are made with love, that are the product of talent like that. Not really. It can rent them for a while, but it can never own them. So give him something personal. That's the best advice I can give you."

Steve had tensed when Bruce had mentioned Dummy, opened his mouth as if about to deny it, but as the scientist had continued that facade of denial had crumpled, and he had listened carefully. By the end of the little speech he was smiling. Albeit only a small smile, but it reached his eyes, which shone startlingly blue, and with the softness of a man well and truly head over heels in love. 

"You... you really think I might stand a chance? With Tony, I mean."

"Steve. You and Tony have been looking at each other when the other's back is turned for the last six months. I'm pretty sure that you stand a chance with him, but he seems absolutely certain that you could never want to look twice at him because you're a super soldier and all american hero, and he's just a guy in a suit, etcetera etcetera, and Tony Stark, for all his... reputation, has never exactly been his own biggest fan, no matter what he might project."

Bruce saw the flash of guilt on Steve's face and sighed slightly, reaching out to cover the hand which had come to rest on Steve's denim clad thigh when the man had set his tea glass back down on the table in front of them.

"Steve. I know you didn't mean that, and you know you didn't mean it. You need to tell him that you didn't mean it, because Tony takes every bad thing that people say to him and locks it deep in his heart and lets it sit there. His father is the cause of all that, and he looked up to you as someone his father idolised, which is why he was quite so... uncooperative when you came back. So you need to show him that you don't think that anymore. It won't be easy but I'm sure you can manage. He'll be worth it if you do."

Steve nodded, and sat up, seemingly filled with new determination. 

"I will. Thank you Doctor Banner."

"Steve, please call me Bruce."

Well, that was worth the dazzling smile that got flashed his way, and even he felt his heart skip. He was pretty sure that Steve would have a similar effect on pretty much anyone with a pulse. 

"Yeh... Thank you Bruce... and thanks for the tea, too, it was really... nice..."

Hands in his pockets, a smile on his face, and the national anthem whistled absent-mindedly between pink lips, Captain America set off to do battle for his new prize: the heart of Tony Stark. 

Bruce settled back and finished his tea, a smile dancing lightly on his own lips. It made him feel more human than he had for a while, to have returned to his old role as counsellor. 

He stood and went to wash up the glasses and the tea pot, to make sure they were clean for the next time he took a pause in his day, half wondering whether anyone would join him then or if this was a one off thing. Either way, perhaps it would pay to start putting enough water for two in the kettle in future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I just want to thank everyone who has subscribed to this fic, and left kudos on it. I don't think I've ever had this much attention on any work before, and so I hope you continue to enjoy the work, and that I don't disappoint!
> 
> Secondly, in case anyone is interested, here is the teaware in use in this section (Steve's glass is the blue one)
> 
> http://www.jeevesandjericho.com/2-Cup-Japanese-Teapot  
> http://t2tea.com/teaware/t2-collections/casablanca/casablanca-tglass-grass-green/  
> http://t2tea.com/teaware/t2-collections/casablanca/casablanca-tglass-royal-blue/
> 
> Please do enjoy and if you could find the time to leave a comment, I'd really appreciate it!


	3. Clint

Of all of the people he might have been expecting to appear in the little space he thought of as his living room, Clint Barton had not really been one of them. It was well known throughout the tower that Clint lived in the vents, more or less, when he was not in bed with Coulson. And he regularly tried to... either encourage or discourage, nobody was quite sure, any inappropriate behaviour. Mainly by leaving signs in strange places that said "Ceiling Clint is watching you". The only person who seemed either immune to or oblivious to this knowledge was Phil Coulson, and everyone suspected this was because he was more than aware of 'Ceiling Clint' watching him all the time anyway. 

Bruce welcomed him with a smile either way, and a silent invitation to sit down, which Clint accepted. 

There were a few scattered dark spots barely visible on the dark grey of his uniform, and a fever in his eyes which was worryingly familiar. Bruce kept his movements slow and quiet, not breaking the silence between them until Clint was ready. Each of them had had that look in their eyes at some point. Tony after they had encountered a suicide bomber in New York who had claimed to be a messenger from the Ten Rings, haunted by the memories of his time trapped and tortured in Afghanistan. Steve when the rescue mission for a group of trapped soldiers had left one man behind with no other option. He had been too badly injured to retrieve, to do anything but deliver the mercy stroke. 

It had been in Natasha's eyes too, on that mission which had been more personal to her than any of them, bar Clint, had been privy to. When the giant robot with glowing eyes who called her 'songbird' had finally been defeated. Bruce hadn't seen much of that in the end, having been unconscious for the entire final showdown after being kidnapped as bait. 

Either way, this was not about him, and those were not memories he wanted to dwell on. This was about Clint. 

Bruce had been making tea anyway, and it was no bother to set out a second cup. He reached for the chest, wondering what to choose this time, when Clint finally spoke. 

"Black."

A brief hesitation, but Bruce didn't question him, and where his fingers had been edging towards the herbal teas. Instead, he reached for a different selection. He had a black tea that was meant to help with unwinding, designed to be a blend to transition from a long day to an easy night. That seemed like the best bet in this situation, rather than anything which might get him more worked up. Bruce preferred to avoid black tea if he was at all agitated, but he wasn't in any position to give others instruction on that front. 

He poured it into the glasses, not hesitating to choose purple for Clint, feeling it was appropriate. If the unusual choice of presentation fazed the archer, he gave no sign of it, and simply took the cup, black and bitter as it was, taking a burning sip. Bruce, for his part, waited for his own to cool, angling his body carefully towards Clint to make his body language more receptive and waiting, listening, for wherever the man would choose to begin. 

"Sometimes this job fucking sucks."

There was a brief flash of pain in his cool eyes as he glanced up for the briefest moment, but Bruce said nothing, unwilling to interrupt until he was given a proper cue. 

"Seriously... I mean... you guys, you're all heroes, you're the good guys, even Hulk... people know you, recognise you, and you're... yeh, you're heroes. Me and Tasha, we're not heroes, we're SHIELD through and through. Always have been. And SHIELD aren't the good guys. Sure that's what they want you to believe, that's what they act like, but... in our world, in our job... there's no such thing as the good guys and the bad guys, there's no such thing as black and white, there're just shades of grey," his lips hitched slightly in a pained half-smirk, "And SHIELD aren't always the pale ones, doc, sometimes... sometimes shit goes down. And they say it's for the right reasons, but at the end of the day, it's for their reasons, and they're not accountable to anyone. Yeh, sure, the council, but... the council aren't accountable either. When you get right to the top, there is only power, not accountability, especially because it's all so fucking secret noone knows about it, so they /can't/ make them accountable for anything, call them out on anything done in the name of 'the greater good'. You know what they say about power, doc."

Another nod, and Bruce took a sip of his tea in an attempt to make Clint feel a little more at ease, to dispel the impression that he was the focus of his attention. It was always harder to vent about things when you felt like the centre of attention. 

"Sometimes... I know I'm doing the right thing. Other times I'm not so sure. And before SHIELD, I didn't care, but fucking SHIELD gave me a sense of morality somewhere along the line with all of their propaganda about us being the good guys. So I'm supposed to be a good guy and they order me to do bad guy things. What's so different between me and a sniper working for HYDRA? At the end of the day we're just on pay roll and following orders, so why does he deserve to die and not me?"

That, at least, seemed to deserve an answer. The tension, the wariness in Clint's posture meant that Bruce took his time over setting his glass down again, licking his lips, considering carefully. 

"I don't know."

It was honest, because honesty was what Clint needed right now. In a world of secrets and lies, the one thing any of them could count on was the truth from the rest of their team. It seemed to satisfy Clint, though, and a little of the coiled power bled out as he took another gulp of tea with a nod. 

"Exactly. It's always been an excuse. Just following orders. What makes those who follow orders different from those following different orders? I don't get that... it doesn't..."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and shifted to rest a hand on Clint's arm. He hoped the contact might anchor him a little, bring him back from where he was lost in a fog of memories, of blood and screams and regrets. 

"I think... the difference is that if every person has an in built sense of morality, then... they make the choice to join an organisation, and to follow the orders that they are given. If they gradually discover that the aims of that organisation are incompatible with morality, then they have the ability to make a conscious choice to get out," his focus shifted away from the man opposite into the middle distance, as if lost in his own thoughts, "All humanity has an intrinsic ability to rebel. If they are coerced then there is some defence, but if they are in full control of themselves and the choices they make as to whether to obey orders or not, whether to act on them, to stay with an organisation they feel to be morally corrupt rather than to leave it then... they choose to take the consequences of that choice. And if that choice was not a free choice, then it never would be and at least their death is clean, or if they are captured they can supply information which might help eradicate a little bit of moral corruption in the world and make it a better place. Does that make sense?"

Clint hesitated, and his half empty tea glass was set down now, head resting in his hands.

"But..." it was barely more than a whisper now, "What does that make me?"

"It makes you Agent Clint Barton. Code name Hawkeye. A member of the Avengers initative, a good friend, and the best sniper the world has ever seen."

"I'm a traitor."

"No."

"Bruce... I fucking... I got Phil stabbed. I got a lot of good men and women killed. I led Loki right to the heart of SHIELD because I /knew/ how to get there. I knew what I was doing, but I still... "

Clint's voice cracked then, but Bruce showed no sign of surprise. Clint was human too, though they all tended to forget to look beneath the exterior of bad jokes, casual insubordination and innuendo. It was Tasha who knew him best, and Coulson after that, but despite that the team was some kind of dysfunctional almost family, the SHIELD trio were a subunit within that and it was easy to forget why until you saw a moment like this, where one of them let their guard down.

"Coercion, Clint. You were not under your own control, so you weren't able to make conscious choices. You could feel him in your mind, you knew it was wrong, and that it wasn't you doing those things."

"I should have fought back."

"From what I hear, he moved too fast for that. There's no shame in being compromised like that, when there's no chance to resist. I know you feel like there is, and I understand how guilty you feel about it, but... do you blame me when Hulk kills people? For the destruction he causes every time we're sent out?"

Clint frowned and sat back up instantly, his own hand going to Bruce's shoulder, the contact warm and reassuring, anchoring each of them in turn, as if it calmed him to take on a more protective role. 

"Hell no, Doc, that'd just be fucking stupid... it's not you, it's Hulk. And he doesn't mean to kill people either."

"No, but it still happens. You didn't mean to kill people, and the one who did... he wasn't you, Clint."

The archer frowned, and looked as if he was about to interrupt, to argue with him, but Bruce held up a gentle hand to silence him for the moment, until he had finished making his point. 

"What happened with Loki... what happened on the Helicarrier, and in Stuttgart... that's no different from when I Hulk out. I can't control when that happens, or I couldn't before. I can now. But you couldn't control that. It wasn't you who did those things, Clint, it wasn't you who could have made that choice. You weren't in possession of your self enough to make a choice on any subject, let alone one which required a sense of morality. Hulk... is developing a sense of morality more and more each time he comes out and gains more experience, but at a very fundamental level, humans are amoral creatures. You reverted to that when you were your other-self. It's... that's how I see it. If it helps. You aren't to blame, and you never were. Not to me, not to any of us."

Bruce was gentle as he spoke, but he never once looked away from Clint's eyes. It was important that the archer could see the sincerity, the honesty there. He had been lied to far too often, it was part of the world he had fallen into. Bruce understood that more than he wished to. Several run-ins with the army had borne some resemblance to the underground world which was meat and drink to Clint and Tasha. He had learned to read body language, and so he knew exactly how to give the subconscious cues which would hopefully help his words sink in. 

Clint stared back at him, and there was a moment where Bruce honestly feared he'd only driven the man further into himself before Clint seemed to almost collapse in on himself and fell against Bruce's shoulder for a long moment, strong arms around him, seeking comfort, seeking something true and honest and real which he could trust. Whatever he had been looking for, whatever answers he had been seeking, it seemed he had found them. Bruce did the only thing he could, and held him close. His own tea cooled on the table, but he hardly gave it a second thought, too absorbed in the man who almost shook with relief in his arms at the idea that the guilt which weighed him down might not be his to carry. Bruce understood what that release was like, and he would be forever grateful to the team for giving it to him. It was the least he could do to pass it on to another who needed it, perhaps even more than he did.   
*****  
Neither of them was aware how much time passed until Clint was still in Bruce's arms, though the room had moved from the blaze of sunset to an eerie twilight which wasn't quite darkness.

The scientist had not shifted once, and it was Clint, finally, who broke the seeming deadlock, easing muscles which had seized in complaint, shifting back a little, to reestablish their usual personal space. The tension had gone from him, and each movement now, which had been stiff for so long seemed easy, free, like the man Bruce had seen fewer glimpses of as time went on, as he had had more time to stew in his guilt. 

There was no thanks between them, but Clint drained the last of his cold tea, and nodded as he left in silence.

Bruce only smiled to himself slightly and thought little of it, instead moving to wash up the tea things, sad to dispose of his own, but knowing it had been for a good cause, at the very least. 

It was not until he went into the lab next morning and found a bag of the same blend he had made the previous day pinned to his desk with an arrow that he realised quite how much of a difference he had made to a man who had been breaking under guilt that was not his own. It seemed that both of them had believed themselves alone in bearing that weight.

For all that the SHIELD trio were their own little family, Bruce had the strangest feeling that he might have formed a little bond with the man the rest considered to be their own lone wolf. He allowed himself a small, proud smile, and got on with setting up the day's experiments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the update guys! Sorry it took so long, there shouldn't be a break that long again, all being well with work - if an update will take longer than anticipated, I'll let you know!
> 
> You'll undoubtedly be pleased to know that all the hard work paid off and we came third in the competition I was rehearsing for :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this - do let me know what you think - and anyone who wants to guess who the next chapter will be about, feel free!
> 
> My thanks to flightinflame for beta-reading for me!


	4. Natasha

These days, the kettle always had enough water in it for two cups of tea. Bruce didn't see much point in there being any less - after all, if nobody joined him, then there was a little extra if he wanted a second cup himself. If somebody did, then he was better able to put them at ease and offer them a quiet welcome until they finally broached whatever subject it was that had driven them to come and visit in the first place. It was probably uncharitable to think of it like that - he knew that they would probably come and visit of their own volition perfectly happily. It was just that recently it had been with specific issues in mind as well as for the joy of his company, and he was only too willing to offer whatever assistance he could to them. 

He remembered when Steve had come the first time, and a part of him in turn wondered whether the captain had yet plucked up the courage to speak to Tony about how he felt. Or whether Tony had stopped being quite so blind to the fact that the man he watched when he mistakenly believed noone else was watching was most definitely watching him back when the opportunity arose. 

Either way, the day had, for once, been rather calm, and so he was settling down with his tea chest to choose. Green tea might make sense, or perhaps white, for a treat... yes, that would be n-... and there was the knock on the door. That in itself was unusual, and he wondered whether Steve had returned. Instead, he looked up to see Natasha Romanoff standing, awkwardly for her, in the doorway to his rooms. 

He liked Natasha. He appreciated how swift she had been to give him a second chance after the unfortunate incident on the Helicarrier, although he understood that if anyone knew about loss of control, it was her. That was why she kept it wound so tightly these days. She was beginning to loosen up around the team, though, and he liked to see the little flashes of the real Natasha coming through. People didn't get second chances in Natasha's world, he wasn't stupid enough to believe otherwise, and that must mean that for reasons of her own, she had decided to trust him. She even seemed to get on relatively well with Hulk, at least these days. He seemed to like "pretty lady pets" as he referred to them, and she certainly enjoyed the chance to tower over Clint every now and then. 

"Come in, Natasha... please, do sit down, I was about to have some tea, would you like some?"

She smiled, and it reached her eyes for once, warming his heart a little at the show of trust. 

"I would. Clint says you have good tea, and the Captain, although he knows little about it, seemed rather taken too. I think you've opened his mind somewhat."

She moved to the sofa and sat beside him, crossing her legs easily at the knee, barely wrinkling the uniform of her catsuit.

"I'm glad to hear it," Bruce smiled, and reached for the box of teas, "Do you have any preference?"

She tilted her head for a moment, as if considering, then nodded. 

"White tea. It's been that kind of day. I think the lightness would be good for both of us, and we can view it as a little bit of a reward for good behaviour, don't you think, Doctor?"

He laughed, genuinely laughed, as he leafed through to find one of his few white teas and settle it to steep in the pot. His eyes danced as he looked back at her, reaching for glasses. 

"Do you have a favourite colour, Natasha?"

"Purple." She smiled for a moment, then quirked an eyebrow almost dangerously, though her lips danced, indicating that she was hardly serious in the unspoken threat, "And before you think to imply it, it was purple long before I met Clint. That, at least, is one of the things I retained. I'm half surprised they didn't reprogram me to make it red, but I suppose they felt it might be more believable. I'm just glad it isn't pink or something," her expression softened a little, and she shifted, carefully, if subconsciously, making her body language more receptive to him, more open. "Sadly it was before I met you, too, so I can't even lay the blame at your feet... Clint says your purple glass is lovely. He was so confused by the idea of a glass for tea, it was quite endearing in a strange way."

Bruce chuckled a little and nodded, reaching down to bring out the glasses while the tea brewed. 

She lifted it immediately, examining it with those keen eyes. Bruce had always rather enjoyed people watching, but watching Natasha was possibly the most fascinating thing he had ever done. There were so many layers to her personality, and it was only by paying close attention that it was possible to notice the little nuances. He had to give her credit, her mask was practically flawless, and it was only because he had had glimpses beneath it at all that he could tell when she had brought it down. That did not, of course, mean he could penetrate through it. 

He knew a little about her past, not much, but enough, and he had never before seen so clearly the results of conditioning on another human being. He could tell that everyday was a battle for her to overcome certain aspects of it in her interaction with other people, and that the act would never truly disappear. With Clint, and with Coulson, she was more herself than she was with any other person on the planet, but even then she sometimes tried to keep things to herself. Not even Clint could know everything about her. 

She had the learned appreciation of beautiful things which spoke of a lack of them in formative years, and that, at least, was never entirely feigned. She had a fascination with delicacy that was an extension of the understanding of the fragility of life which all assassins possessed. He loved watching those dark eyes come alive. Although there would never be more than flashes of the true Natasha, or as much of the true Natasha as was left after whatever it was that had happened to her, the flashes, at least, were more frequent now. They were rarely in team situations, more in one on one debates or conversations, or sometimes when she was joking with Clint, but every time he saw one, Bruce was glad for her. This truly was a team for lost souls, and she belonged here, just as much as any of them did.

Bruce poured the tea, and took a deep breath. It was fresh, and even the scent of it sent a wave of tranquility washing over him. That was what he loved most about this little ritual, whether it was shared with others or not. It was a little oasis of calm in the midst of what was, to put it mildly, a chaotic existence. He didn't begrudge sharing it, though, particularly not with Natasha. 

He set his glass down gently and looked up with a gentle smile.

"So, is there anything in particular which brings you here Natasha?"

She returned his smile with one of her own, a genuine quirk of lips which matched the flash of what might have been pleasure in her eyes. 

"No, not really. Clint mentioned that he had been by."

Well, that explained a lot. Everyone knew how the two assassins looked out for each other, and given how Clint had been compromised, it made sense that Natasha might want to come and check him out, find out whether he was going to use it against Clint. She had no way of knowing what Clint might have said, and they watched each others' backs fiercely. Bruce did not know much about their history. Noone did, at least, noone but Coulson. It seemed pretty obvious, though, that neither of them was used to having someone to watch their back. It was part of what made their relationship so intense. 

"Yes," he decided honesty was by far the better policy here, and focussed on keeping his smile free, his motions easy. He had no reason to be tense, after all, no reason to fear her wrath. He had done nothing wrong, even if it was all too easy to be on the defensive around Natasha. He always worked hard not to be. She was a member of his team, a friend, an equal. Even after what had happened on the Helicarrier, she still trusted him, she was not wary, like so many were. She would have had more cause than most, too. He was grateful for that, more grateful than he could say, and so he always made the effort to treat her fairly. 

Natasha nodded, and made no other comment on the matter, apparently satisfied for now, at least. She swirled her glass a little, watching the liquid within it, and taking a deep breath of the steam, much like he had himself.

"It's good."

He appreciated the lack of surprise in her voice, and the warmth. The smile was familiar, but the warmth was new. 

"Thank you," he returned the smile with a soft one of his own, "I try to make sure I keep the best."

Natasha nodded and trailed a fingertip through the cooling liquid, catching the drops with a feline tongue. Bruce couldn't help but wonder how much of the seduction was intentional, and how much of it just came so naturally that she struggled to turn it off. He covered the sadness of those thoughts with another sip from his own glass. 

"So, where did you learn to love tea?" her feet were tucked up under her now, the pose startlingly casual, although he was certain it was engineered.

"China... before that India..." another sip, and he shrugged, "It's something that's worth doing well. Respect for tea was something that was taught to me by the woman who first introduced me to it. She said that if you respected the tea, respect for all else would follow. I don't know how true it is, but it's never let me down yet. I work hard to be respectful all the time."

"You mean you work hard not to be noticed."

He raised his glass a little to her then, allowing a slight hint of ruefulness to creep into his eyes. 

"Touché. Force of habit, I'm afraid, even from before everyone ran from the big green rage monster and I had the entire might of the American army chasing me down."

Although she mirrored his smile, Bruce was almost sure he could see a little pang in Natasha's eyes, too, though he was careful not to call her on it. 

"Sometimes..." she hesitated a little before continuing, "Sometimes the world is a much more interesting place if you can pass without notice. You can learn a great deal simply by observation, but... you are a good person. It seems a shame that you... feel you have to hide so much."

Bruce nodded, and considered before he replied. He liked talking like this with Natasha, it wasn't pressured, and there was no rush, it was just easy. There was a refreshing honesty to it, too, knowing that she had seen him at his worst, and still thought nothing less of him. 

"Regardless of whether I am a good person or not, for so long I was believed to be otherwise, and treated as otherwise that the behaviours are hard to break. I think... that the credit for my progress towards a more social existence goes to Tony. He never danced around what I am. He was the first person since it happened to simply treat it as if it were a fact, not a problem, and something to be accepted. I'll never be comfortable with the media, and I'll never like strangers. But you are my team. You are my friends. And I trust you."

"After everything that's happened to you, you have little enough reason to do that, but I'm grateful that you do." was Natasha's swift rejoinder, as on point as ever. Bruce almost laughed. 

"I don't think that either of us particularly have much reason to trust those we now find ourselves working for."

"I don't." Natasha's reply was simple, so simple, so bare-faced, that it took Bruce by surprise and he stared at her for a long moment. 

She seemed bemused by his confusion, and offered only the slightest shrug as she sipped her tea again. 

"I don't trust SHIELD. I never have. I trust Clint, and I trust Coulson. I don't trust Fury as far as I could throw him, and he knows that I wouldn't be me if I did. The same goes for Hill. They don't trust me either, but we work best that way. I think if you don't trust someone, it forces you to have a more accurate measure of them. Of their strengths and weaknesses, their motivations. Sometimes I think Director Fury is the only person I might not always beat at poker. But compared to what I knew before... I would always choose to work for him," she set the glass down, and shifted a little where she was curled against the arm of the sofa, "Besides, after New York, Clint and I made it absolutely clear what the consequences would be if he tried to take Phil from us again. I don't know how Coulson feels about being the one to wield such power. In a way I suppose it would make sense for Director Fury to attempt to disappear him."

"Why do you think he hasn't?" there was a hint of a wry grin on Bruce's face as he quirked an eyebrow at her. She met him with a grin. 

"Because he's Coulson. SHIELD would fall apart without him. If he chose to go rogue, he could have them all on their knees inside twenty four hours. And SHIELD has a contingency plan for if he and Miss Potts decide to go into business together. It basically consists of going along with whatever is requested of them."

Now that did make Bruce laugh, and Natasha joined him. He didn't think he had ever heard her laugh before. It was like a mountain brook bubbling over stones. He liked it. 

Natasha drained her tea and set the glass deliberately back on the table. Her eyes were warm when she glanced up at him again and nodded slowly. 

"Thank you. For your company. It was nice."

"It was, very nice."

"Perhaps you might permit me to come again?" she arched an elegant eyebrow, but Bruce knew there was no threat in it, and nodded, smiling. 

"I would like that, Natasha. You are always welcome. It was a pleasure to talk to you."

She stood, and stretched, giving him the slightest nod and a quirk of her lips, "Likewise, Doctor..." before she sauntered out as quietly as she had come, and Bruce moved once more to clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my beta readers! Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, Bruce is using the same teaware he used with Clint (though I may have neglected to put links, in which case, here: http://t2tea.com/teaware/tea-glasses/casablanca-tglass-violet-2/ http://t2tea.com/teaware/tea-glasses/casablanca-tglass-grass-green-2/)
> 
> Anyone got any guesses as to who's next? Leave any guesses in the comments :)


	5. Tony

Bruce was honestly surprised it had taken Tony this long to appear in his rooms. Yes, the genius was, if anything, worse than he was at getting lost in his work, but at the same time, Tony seemed to seek out every possible excuse to visit him. Bruce knew how Tony felt, at least in part. He had been rejected by the human race, but Tony had never really felt like he was part of it. His parents had taught him he wasn't worth regard, and although he had overcompensated for that in subsequent years, it had never really sunk in. In Bruce, Tony had found someone who was not only an intellectual equal, but someone who understood exactly what it was like not to be a real part of the society everyone else took for granted. 

The genius appeared one afternoon, and flopped unceremoniously onto his sofa. Bruce glanced up at him and quirked an eyebrow, trying to stop himself smiling. Offending Tony's dignity when he was in a dramatic mood like this never ended well. The big opening he had been anticipating, the launch into one soliloquy or another never came though, and so Bruce looked back, looked closer. The smudges perpetually under Tony's eyes were darker now, a harsh grey against his skin, and there was a thinness to him which did not sit well with Bruce. The doctor took a moment to flick the switch on the kettle, then turned to the engineer and folded his arms.

"Tony, have you actually been remembering to eat and sleep like a normal person?"

"...Yes?"

Bruce quirked an eyebrow sardonically. 

"Really?"

"...Maybe?"

Bruce sighed and reached for the little wooden box which held his tea collection. Something soothing. Herbal, maybe. Chamomile tea was good for sleep, but then, he had a few herbal blends he had ordered as some kind of experiment. Well, now seemed as good a time as any to try them... he wouldn't be surprised if the engineer ended up falling asleep on his couch, but he did hope Tony would make it to bed. 

"Alright... I'll make us some tea, then you need to go to bed, okay? We'll get Jarvis to wake you for dinner. How many hours have you been up?"

"About forty I think..."

"Forty one hours and thirteen minutes, Doctor Banner." Jarvis interjected smoothly, and Bruce once more turned his unimpressed gaze on Tony. He understood what it was like to be completely absorbed in a project, to lose track of everything else that went on outside that bubble. He had, however, asked the AI to alert him when his blood sugar dropped below a certain level, or when it had been more than six hours since he had last taken a break. For all that lab work was fascinating, if he didn't take breaks, he started making stupid mistakes. Tony hadn't taken those steps and wasn't adjusting well to the idea of people holding him to societal constraints like 'meal times' or 'night'. 

Bruce sighed softly, but refrained from comment, pouring the water into the the iron pot, leaving the tea to steep. He hadn't tried this blend before, but he had to admit that the scent swirling up from it was rather enticing. He could certainly understand the attraction of it. Hopefully it would do its job and send Tony to sleep. He would be lying if he said he didn't need the chance to unwind a little bit himself, too.

"What's got you so worked up?"

He was pretty sure he knew what part of it was, but Tony was a complicated guy, and it didn't help that he was far too used to having nobody to talk to. It hadn't really taken long for Bruce to notice that half of the time Tony's mouth moved to fill up the awkward silences which had always been there when he had fallen quiet before. It was easier to keep up a rambling monologue than realise quite how much contempt the people around you had, and it was easier to seem intelligent if you just kept talking. Tony was intelligent anyway, of course. The title of genius was thrown around pretty lightly, but here was a man who definitely deserved it, and was about the only other person on the planet Bruce could have a conversation with when things turned to talking about work. 

"Well the new project I'm working on is throwing me a few curveballs with holes in the code and I've been dealing with a few memories I'd much rather repress, can't sleep in case those fucking squid things come back, and when I do sleep I... dream. Vividly. So it isn't all that refreshing even though seriously I'm Tony Stark I could have whoever I wanted except of course that it would never be more than once and there are a few people who are more or less off limits and my brain has decided to torment me with one of those because it's fucking sadistic like that so I try to lose myself in work because I hear that's a real libido killer and it's easier to think about coding and wiring and stuff like that than people because people are complicated. Have you ever noticed that, Bruce? People are really fucking complicated. And I don't really like them that much anyway. They like me, or they think they like me, or they hate me but they lap up what I'm doing anyway, because, you know, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist with one hell of a reputation to keep up none of which is really real but it kept them away from other stuff and I didn't used to care except I started caring when the asshole of a surrogate father I had kinda forced me to grow up a little except I really shouldn't be talking about that, not that you don't know anyway, and so the upshot of it all is-"

"You have a crush on Steve Rogers which you can't quite admit because you're terrified he'll say no, because you've never managed to ask anyone out in your life?"

Tony stared at him, not entirely unlike some small furry animal caught in the glare of a torch (Bruce had never really been one for cars) and Bruce fought back a smile.

"Wha-..h-... I don't know what you-"

He didn't actually dignify that with a response, instead raising a pointed eyebrow and moving to pour the tea as emphatically as he could. 

Tony seemed to deflate slightly and his shoulder slumped with a sigh. Bruce didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look quite so dejected.

"I...yeh. I like him. I just... he's Captain America for fuck's sake... and I'm... 'Tony Stark'... I'm kind of a world famous asshole. He's a real hero, I'm just a guy in a suit who wouldn't know romance if it bit him on the ass. He deserves... flowers and stuff and a good woman who makes him lunch and stays out of the way when he's heroing, someone he can share a family with and all the good things he was supposed to have but never got the chance to."

"Tony..." this time Bruce's tone was gentle, and he stroked fingers briefly over the back of the engineer's hand, "...I... okay, first things first, I think you're hugely underestimating yourself. The thing about being a human being is that you're always going to be a work in progress. You're never going to be perfect. You might not have been a very nice person before, but children learn what they're taught, and you never exactly had good role models in your life to teach you these things..."

He added a swirl of honey to the tea, and handed the red and gold glass ceremoniously over to Tony.

"You were betrayed, and you discovered the strength you had inside you, new purpose, a mission, whatever you want to call it. You discovered a drive to protect people because no matter what you did before you never /intended/ harm. Once you realised what was happening, you started working to stop it. Just a little pause for thought, even considering that this is a team effort, in the last three years Jarvis estimates that Iron Man has saved over half as many people as died from Stark tech while your name was on the board. In three years you have undone over fifteen years worth of damage, Tony, and that's not counting the innovations in water, clean energy and intellicrops and the long reaching effects those will have. You're a lot more than a guy in a suit no matter which way you slice it, or which suit you wear, and that's... you're... one hell of a guy in a suit to start with."

He sipped his own tea, allowing the flavours to roll around on his tongue. Hmm. Chamomile, lemon... quite the floral scent too. He liked it. Tea aside, though, there were other important things to talk about. 

"Besides... no matter how much he wants it, or any of us might want it... heroes don't get that kind of normality, Tony. Normal people can't cope with what we do, and nor should they have to. We risk our lives time and time again, often where everyone can see it, where it's beamed around the world in less than a second because everyone is watching us. I don't know what steve wants, nor do you, unless you've asked him. I know it's easier to come up with all kinds of reasons why the person you want will never want you back, but..." he shrugged, and a wave of melancholy washed through him as he took a deep breath of floral-scented steam, concentrating on the swirling patterns in it, the warmth of the glass in his hands, everything except the dreams which hadn't quite died, "Say something. Anything. Don't just... sit there and watch each other in silence. Please, god." 

He shot the man a smile, "Besides, if you don't get a move on, I think Hulk might take matters into his own hands, he doesn't like... awkwardness."

Tony was staring at him, his hands busy with... well, each other, as far as Bruce could tell, in the absence of anything else, and there was a fear in his eyes which Bruce had never seen before. 

Tony had always faced everything that came at them with a cool equanimity, like the space aliens and evil robots were an inconvenience rather than a threat. Even when he had flown that warhead up through the portal into deep space, even when he had almost died his voice had been level, the note of humour in it carefully ever-present. This was the first time Bruce had ever seen Tony Stark look scared.

"I... but..." or speechless. Speechless was also a new one from Tony. 

This time, Bruce didn't hesitate, and moved a little closer, taking Tony's hand between his own, holding it tight, the callouses dragging a little on his skin. 

"Tony... it's just asking for a date. One date. What's the worst that could happen?"

"The worst that could happen is that he'll hate me forever and it'll destroy the team and I'll have pissed off Captain America, or if he says yes and then I fuck it up, which I will because I fuck everything up, then I'll have broken his heart and it's Captain America and I-"

"No." Bruce interrupted him again. He usually made a rule never to interrupt people when they were talking to him like this, but if Tony wasn't interrupted then people had been known to go blue in the face waiting for their chance to interject. Besides, he was one of the few people who could get away with it, and there was always a little twist of heartfelt pleasure that he had a friend close enough to be informal with, let alone that that friend was Tony Stark. "He isn't Captain America, Tony. He's Steve Rogers. You're not Iron Man when you're off duty, I'm not Hulk when I'm off duty... give him the same respect. He's Steve Rogers. He's just another guy."

"Just another guy who probably doesn't even like men!"

"Have you asked him?"

"No!"

"Well, try asking, not mind reading, because if you couldn't give Jarvis the ability to read minds, I highly doubt you have it yourself."

Bruce nudged the tea towards Tony, who stared at it for a long moment then picked it up, grateful to finally have something else to focus on. The scientist took advantage of the fact that Tony was otherwise occupied to deliver his coup de grace.

"Besides, you must not have been listening to me earlier. I said staring at each other. Both of you. At each other. Somehow contriving to never be looking when the other person turns around. So please god talk to him. I know he needs some new art supplies. Ask Jarvis what he likes, go and get some, as in, go to a shop and buy it personally, then take it to him and ask him out. It's not difficult. But after you have slept. Sleep first. Then food. Go shopping tomorrow. And please god talk to him because I think even Coulson is now in on the pool for when you two will actually get together."

That seemed to have got through to him judging by the owlish blink, and Bruce sipped his tea, amused, as the logic circuits in Tony's brain seemed to whir through the processing of everything he had been told. Apparently the plan was viable, or they were too exhausted to argue (which was equally likely) because instead of a word of complaint, he nodded with disturbing acquiescence and settled back with the glass in his hands.

A long moment passed between them, which was eventually broken by a soft, almost hesitant, "Nice tea."

Bruce smiled and reached out for the now empty glass, setting it safely down on the table and standing to show Tony out, pulling him into a tight embrace before patting him on the shoulder.

"Bed. Now."

"Why Bruce, I had no idea you felt that way..."

The sentiment was rather ruined by the yawn which interrupted the attempt pick-up line halfway through, and Bruce barely managed to stifle a laugh. 

"Bed, Tony. I'll get Jarvis to lock you out of the workshop."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"It is true that when you created me you did code protocols to prevent you endangering yourself overly. Given your current reaction times and difficulties in applying simple logic, Doctor Banner is right and I would be perfectly capable within the system parameters you designed to circumvent your access to the workshop, Sir."

Tony blinked at the ceiling for a long moment, apparently attempting to glare, then shuffled off in the direction of his bedroom muttering something about ungrateful AIs. Bruce allowed himself a little smile and then went to clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://t2tea.com/tea/herbal-fruit-tisanes/herbal/relax/
> 
> http://www.amazon.co.uk/Set-Six-Moroccan-Tea-Glasses-/dp/B006X26F58/ref=sr_1_5?s=kitchen&ie=UTF8&qid=1362481720&sr=1-5
> 
> Alright, so, this chapter is later than it could have been. I finished it on Tuesday, edited it Wednesday. However, the delay is due to wanting to put the next installment of the series up soon after this - that's right folks, this is a series, and not just one fic with a load of chapters. As you may have noticed, after the chat with Steve and this little talk with Tony, neither of these two wonderful gentlemen has quite got the hang of communicating with each other. That is all about to change. Or would be if I could get my muses to cooperate. I hope to have it up at some point over the weekend or next week, when my muses start being a bit more cooperative, but do keep an eye out for it, because hopefully it'll be worth the wait! There will be other works in the series as the timeline here pans out more - generally exploring specific relationships in more detail and generally being an excuse for adorableness.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Anyone want to guess who's going to pay Bruce a visit next?


	6. Thor

This time, when he got a moment to settle down in his little living room and put the kettle on, it felt like a moment's calm in a whirlwind. The entire tower was swept up in preparations - initiated by Thor - for visitors from New Mexico.

The roombas were cleaning every inch of the tower, several times over,and he had had quite enough of keeping them out of his lab, where they hadn't quite grasped that scientific things did not necessarily need tidying up, and that carefully synthesised product was not dust that needed to be disposed of.

As it was, he had locked the door behind himself and taken a moment of peace and quiet. He was looking forward to Jane's visit - he liked the physicist a great deal. He was pretty sure that Tony was planning on offering her Stark Industries money. Her research was the type to be best carried out in the desert, away from civilisation enough that stargazing was easy. He was pretty sure there had been rumours about the construction of a theoretical physics lab on the floor below, too. The entire trio was very popular with everyone in the tower, especially Darcy. Natasha in particular seemed rather fond of her. It was always worrying when Natasha seemed fond of anyone. 

When he heard the inevitable knock at the door he was more than a little tempted to ignore it, but something in him wouldn't let him. He had a team now, friends... the closest he had ever really known to a family. And so he stirred himself and answered, surprised to be greeted by the rather impressive Scandinavian edifice that was Thor.

"Doctor Banner..." that wasn't quite his usual boom. Bruce was rather taken aback, and wondered what was bothering the Norse god. Unless, of course, it was mild concern for Bruce's own comfort and limits, both of which were often exceeded by what passed as a normal volume for the warrior. 

"I hear that you are... often generous with your time and wisdom when those of your team might be in need of it... I wonder if I could trouble you for some advice?"

Bruce stepped back and invited him in, trying not to show how bewildered he was by the request. Then again, none of them had ever truly gotten to know Thor. He felt that it was past time that changed, and so whatever it was that he wanted, Bruce would do his best to help. 

Thor moved with exaggerated care, aware of the damage that he could unintentionally cause to the fragile furnishings of the mortal world. At Bruce's invitation, though, he took a seat on the sofa, and the offered glass of hot liquid. On a whim, the scientist had chosen the yellow glass. It was the closest he had to gold and it rather matched Thor's hair.

"What is this? It is not coffee..."

"No, I tend not to drink coffee much. Sometimes I need the caffeine, but I try to avoid making a habit of it, tea is much more versatile. This is white tea. It's not refined all that much, this blend is from China. It's... simple."

"It smells like Asgard."

That brought a little smile to Bruce's lips, hidden by the rim of his own green glass. It came as a pleasant surprise that something he viewed as a part of everyday life could mean so much to Thor - a snapshot of a world Bruce had never known and probably never would, but which was home to a friend who could only rarely return.

"I'm glad... was there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about Thor?"

His ice-blue eyes were clouded with an emotion Bruce could not identify as Thor took another sip of his tea, considering how to begin. He wasn't used to talking about things in this manner, but he had learned that communication was necessary as an adult, particularly with mortals. It was the nature of mortals in particular that concerned him. They were so much more complicated than he could ever have imagined, and so beautiful, even in the brevity of their lives. 

"I wished to ask your advice about my sweet Lady Jane..."

Bruce blinked slightly. He wondered what exactly made Thor think that he would be of any use when it came to that kind of thing. The closest he had ever had to a relationship had been Betty, and that... had not exactly ended well for either of them. It wasn't much of a relationship when one party was perpetually on the run anywhere and everywhere except where the other party was. He knew all the jokes about overprotective fathers, but General Ross was... in a league of his own. 

"I... don't know that I'll be able to help much, Thor, but I'll do my best?" he offered with a smile, taking another sip of his tea. "What in particular did you want to ask about?"

Thor settled forward, leaning towards Bruce as if sharing some kind of secret. Bruce could understand that. Asking for advice never came easily to those who were born to leadership. Thor had never really questioned his right to the throne - at least, that was what the team had gleaned from his talk about his brother. Though there had always been two princes, it had been Thor who was lauded above Loki, and who had been the apple of his father's eye. Bruce wondered to himself sometimes about how much Loki's actions since were borne of desperation and lost hope, but those were thoughts for another day. 

"I... I wish to make her happy. These things are... simpler in Asgard. I understand the nature of the women there and what they want. I am their prince too, and so they... there is a certain dynamic which is understood between us and always present. Lady Jane is different though. She is a mortal, and very much... independent? She is not a warrior, but there is a fighting spirit in her to rival mine, even at my finest hour. She does not apologise for herself and she believes in what she does," he hesitated for a moment, "It is... the Midgardian way of understanding things is so different to what I am used to. This thing you call science... these are concepts we have known of for thousands of years, they come as naturally to us as breathing, and yet now when I discuss these things with my Lady Jane, she makes me see them in a different way. You mortals... are approaching the same principles from a different starting point. It is... fascinating but sometimes... it confuses me. I would dearly love to be able to discuss such things with her but I lack the basic knowledge to do so in terms that she would understand, and I as such I do not know how to make her happy."

Bruce nodded, unsure for the moment of what to say next, how to proceed. He had known, they all had, how much Thor loved Jane. Even so, that he was prepared to make such an effort to make her happy, to learn about things which were foreign to him so that he could better appreciate and share in the things she loved when previously there had been no onus on him to change his own behaviour or understanding was stunning. It was moments like this that made them all appreciate how... well, how kingly Thor could be at times. 

From what Bruce understood, when he had first arrived on Earth, Thor had been banished from Asgard for rash behaviour. Behaviour which had more or less precipitated a war between Asgard and the Frost Giants. His father had apparently thought that banishing him would teach him some maturity and temper his reckless nature. He had evidently been right. None of them had really known him then, apart from Jane, Darcy and Erik Selvig (and Coulson and Clint, of course, but only from a distance). These days, though it was rarely relevant to the everyday work of saving the world, it was evident that Thor had the makings of a great king. He had learned wisdom, and the value of understanding other races rather than simply making assumptions or being prejudiced on the basis of history or ignorance. It was moments like these that really brought it home who it was that they had on their team.

"Well... I think the fact that you are willing to learn, to show an interest at all, particularly when we must seem rather backward is a really... big thing. And I think that would mean a lot to Jane to know," he hesitated and took a sip of his tea, thinking,"If it would be of interest, or if it would be something you would like, I'm sure Jane, or Tony, or even myself would be happy to try to teach you a little more about-" he smiled a little, "Midgardian science. Jarvis is also a good person to ask. I know for a fact that Jane has published a few papers. Reading them and talking about them with her would be a really nice thing to do."

Thor was smiling, evidently grateful for Bruce's help. He was careful when he set the doctor's fragile glass back on the table. He didn't want to break something so beautiful, and which was so obviously precious to someone who he counted among his greatest comrades and friends. 

"Thank you, doctor. I am grateful for your encouragement, and your advice. I would be greatly in your debt were you able to spare some time to perhaps teach me more of these things that interest my lovely Jane so."

He hesitated, unsure whether or not to mention the other point which had been bothering him. Then again, there was unlikely to be a better moment; he was painfully aware of the speed at which time passed for mortals. He did not want to leave it too late.

"Doctor... perhaps there is another point on which you might be able to offer some assistance."

He glanced away, fingers twisting nervously in his lap, searching for the words.

"It... concerns me to have fallen so swiftly for a mortal woman. I do not regret it, you understand, but I am aware, and ever more so with each passing day, that my time with the Lady Jane is short. Much as it is with the Son of Coul, and our own archer with eyes like a hawk. With the Captain, perhaps, and yourself... maybe even Lady Natasha and Anthony, our time together might be a little extended. Not so with Jane, and nor would I have it be, even were there means in Asgard, Midgard or any of the nine realms to make it so. It would not be... fair on her, to have to watch the passing away of all she knew and be left with only me. Forcing men to live beyond their allotted spell is... cruel, and only breeds resentment and... in the end perhaps madness. I would not rob her of her dignity for my own selfish reasons," he flushed and swallowed slightly, glancing back to dark eyes which were wise beyond their years, "...I have said too much for now, I fear, and rather lost the focus of my enquiry... I simply wondered whether there was any formality on Midgard which might serve to bind the two of us. Though I live on till Ragnarok and the end of all things, I will have no other but her. I wish to offer her token of that, and my pledge, if she will have it. I know not what value it might have to her, but... I can hope, can I not?"

Bruce swallowed then, overwhelmed by the emotion in Thor's words. It was easy enough for them all to carry on without giving much thought to the god who seemed so simple sometimes, who was always ready with a smile and an encouraging clap on the back. He had never thought about what it must be like to form bonds with those who you knew you would one day watch die.

"Yes..." he couldn't quite stop himself reaching out to take Thor's hand; the gesture more or less meaningless, but an attempt nonetheless at comfort for a problem that was too big for simple words. "...And I believe that Jane would be more than happy to accept any proposal you might offer her. There is a tradition of marriage here on... Midgard. It takes many forms, and I have no idea what Jane might want from it, but the most... flexible one is probably a civil marriage. Obviously you might... want something slightly more themed towards the traditions you know... would taking Jane as your bride here on Midgard carry weight in Asgard?"

Thor nodded solemnly.

"I have already made my intentions towards her clear to both my father and my mother. My friends have met her, and... although I believe they are a little taken aback by my decision to love a mortal, they accept it and are glad for us both. Is the idea of marriage similar here on Midgard, then?"

Bruce hesitated, then nodded slowly. 

"I would guess so... it is a commitment, an undertaking between two people who are devoted to one another to stay faithful to each other and love each other... to share in all things, both bad and good... to walk the road of life side by side, build a family, support each other... Is that... what marriage is on Asgard?"

Thor nodded rapidly, smiling a little now, obviously comforted by an idea he was familiar with, albeit perhaps framed in terms he had not yet encountered. 

"If it is the same... and you're serious about it..." Bruce wasn't sure of the feasibility of what he was about to suggest, but he felt the idea deserved at least to be mooted. "Then perhaps you should consider having a ceremony here on Earth, and one in Asgard too. If you want to take Jane as your... consort, would that be the correct term?" Thor nodded, and Bruce continued "As your consort forever, then... I think having both ceremonies would both declare and cement that commitment about as much as might be possible..."

Thor nodded, seemingly filled with new fervour now, the familiar smile returning to his face though Bruce could now see the age and wisdom which lurked behind it. He stood, and bowed low to the doctor.

"Thank you for your wise counsel, Doctor Banner. You are a sage amongst men; it is an honour to fight alongside you and to call you my comrade. I will not forget your kindness. Please excuse me now though, I must go and finish the preparations for my lovely Jane's visit."

Bruce blinked, smiling slightly, a little taken aback by the swiftness of the movement - it was easy to forget how fast Thor could be when the mood was on him. Size was often associated with strength, but rarely speed.

"You're... very welcome, Thor. I'm glad I could help. Let me know when they arrive, it would be nice to see Jane again..."

"I am sure that Master Jarvis will be happy to inform you!" Thor assented, enthusiastically as ever, and waved as he left.

Smiling to himself, Bruce picked up the glasses and crossed to the sink. His guest had been unexpected, but nonetheless welcome for that, and it had certainly given him a lot of food for thought. Things were much calmer these days, and he had been wondering (though each time the thought crossed his mind he dismissed it quickly) about the possibility of a relationship not being completely disastrous. Thor raised a point he had never considered before - would he be able to cope with the inevitability of leaving them behind? Would he, indeed, live past his expected age or would he be able to die of natural causes and old age as the healing power of the gamma radiation wore off? Was it simply external threats that Hulk defended him against? He didn't know, but for once, scientific curiosity did not drive him to find out. In this case, at least, what would be would be, and he would take the hand life dealt him gladly. If Thor could find happiness for a few (comparatively) short decades with Jane, then Bruce owed it to himself at least to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special credit to Wolvine and mylia11 who both guessed right for this chapter, the next two will be the visitors from New Mexico coming to pay visits to our resident agony uncle.
> 
> If you are interested, this is what they were drinking: http://t2tea.com/tea/white-tea/white-snow-buds-2/
> 
> and here is Thor's glass: http://t2tea.com/teaware/tea-glasses/casablanca-tglass-yellow-2/
> 
> A couple of weeks ago I posted the next installment of the series, Steve and Tony's big conversation - if you haven't taken a look already, please do go read it and enjoy!
> 
> I would like to apologise for the delay in the posting of this chapter, but unfortunately I have to add another little rider that the next few chapters may be a little erratic: for the last two weeks my grandfather has been very ill in hospital, and unfortunately he passed away a few hours ago. I hope you can then forgive any delay in continuation - I promise the fic won't be abandoned, though! (and though it might seem inconsistent, this is the best I've ever done with keeping up a multi-chapter fic, so it could be so much worse).


	7. Jane

Although there was more excitement in the air than usual, Bruce was pleasantly surprised by the lack of disruption to his own routine. Thor, obviously, was slightly busy with his visitors. He was pretty sure that Darcy spent her time hanging out with Clint and Natasha, which was a rather terrifying thought in and of itself. Selvig occasionally dropped by the labs to visit him and Tony. The only really obvious change was the insistence, even more than usual, that they all eat together. The rota hadn't really changed though.

Darcy and Jane had both come to the Movie Night (yes, the capitalisation was necessary) and eaten their way through at least one bowl of popcorn. Not as much as Clint, but then that wasn't a complete surprise. Darcy had always kind of reminded Bruce of a hamster. A cute hamster, one obsessed with music and with a disturbingly incisive mind, but a hamster all the same. Clint feeding her didn't help a great deal with that. Particularly since when they both had cheeks bulging with popcorn, they looked rather like they were siblings. Terrifying siblings, but strangely adorable. 

He was in his living room, taking a break and a few minutes to sit down. Today was a day for fruit tea, he had decided, and so the steam which rose from the brewing tea pot was far more fragrant and sweet than usual. He wasn't sure whether this blend would be entirely too sweet for him but he was willing to give it a go. It smelled exotic, like the markets where he had first begun building up his collection. Smell was a surprisingly powerful memory trigger, and he allowed himself a little smile at the flashes of his old life. It had been hard, and perpetually shadowed by terror, but there had been sunny days all the same, when not everything had seemed shadowed and awful. There had been happy days and smiles shared with people who accepted him at face value, who trusted him. 

Things had changed. Things always did. But Bruce was not entirely sure that such changes were a bad thing. It didn't stop him being nostalgic for the past at times, though. 

He was rather shaken from that reverie by the sound of a knock at the door. As he moved to answer it, he turned his mind instead to the question of who it could be. Not Tony, Tony didn't knock. It had been softer than Steve, and much softer than Thor. Clint was more awkward than that, and that was on the condition that he used a door. Natasha would be more deliberate. Phil would be more efficient. Still musing on the little individual peculiarities of his team mates, he opened the door, and smiled to see Jane.

They'd had very little time to sit down and talk together, and Bruce always appreciated the opportunity for a catch up. He loved working with Tony, of course, the man had a brilliant mind, and was... a pleasure most of the time, and an entertainment all of the time. He was first and foremost an engineer, though, and although he had an understanding of obscure and abstract theoretical concepts, he was much more interested in practical applications and actually making things. Bruce knew that his own love and understanding of science of so many different kinds was a little... unique, too, but Jane and Erik were both... scientists, rather than engineers. They all preferred thinking to doing, even though experimentation could be fun. Tony always rushed in to do and figured stuff out as he went along. Bruce was rather... allergic to that school of thought these days. 

"Hey..." she smiled, and he stepped back to usher her in, murmuring his own greeting. 

"Hello... it's good to see you, I didn't know if you'd be too busy to pop down. I know you must miss Thor a lot when you spend so much time apart. He's really glad to see you, I think. He misses you a lot."

She nodded and blushed a little, still carrying a tin in one hand. After a moment's pause she offered it to him, and he blinked and took it. 

"Thank you?"

"Thor told me he came to speak to you. That you gave him a lot of good advice about how he could be a better boyfriend to me; and that if it was acceptable to me he would like to request my hand in marriage, but that I shouldn't feel any obligation. It was just that he wanted me to know how serious he was about me. About us. That he wanted to bind himself to me for eternity. That you were going to teach him about Midgardian science so he could talk about my work."

Bruce felt a slight flush rise in his own cheeks - he wasn't sure whether she viewed that as an invasion of privacy. Should he have kept his nose out of their relationship? Maybe. Probably, in fact, but... well. Thor was an alien, technically at least, and it seemed only fair to give the poor guy a little help with rituals and traditions that not even Midgardian citizens themselves really understood. Bruce had a pet theory of his own that secretly everyone in a relationship, no matter how perfect it was, was really just making it up as they went along. People were too different for any hard and fast rules about right and wrong to apply in every situation. 

"I...hope you don't mind. He came to me for some advice and... well, not that I'm exactly well qualified to give it, but I tried to help..."

"No." Jane was firm, and Bruce hid a smile. She was always very firm about what she wanted. Even Coulson respected her. He wasn't scared of her in the same way that SHIELD had an official policy to be slightly scared of Pepper Potts, but he respected her. She had stood up to them when they had been taking her research away as part of the incident in New Mexico.

"Bruce, I came to say thank you. And to give you something because... words aren't really enough. Thor said you liked tea, so I thought something that went with tea might be nice. We baked you a cake. Well. I baked you a cake. Thor and Darcy helped. If it's inedible please don't blame me."

He laughed and set the tin down on the table, sitting down next to her on the couch as he opened it and took a deep breath.

"It smells good." he was less convinced by the decoration, but the cake itself smelled good. He fought to keep a straight face. 

"I'm guessing the icing design was Darcy's idea?"

Jane nodded grimly "I'm actually quite tempted to carry out a scientific experiment on it to see if it glows in the dark. Nothing personal. More that Thor put the whole bottle of green food colouring in. So I dread to think about the effect of eating it. But you only live once, right?"

Bruce laughed and nodded, reaching for the tea pot and holding it up.

"Can I offer you a glass? We can have a nice cup of tea, and a piece of cake..." he trailed off abruptly, eyes dancing mischeviously, and Jane sat up a little straighter, her own expression mirroring his as they began to chant together.

"Tea and cake or death, tea and cake or death, little red cook book, little red cook book!"

Laughing together, she nodded and Bruce set two glasses out on the table. Midnight blue seemed an appropriate choice for the astrophysicist, and he stuck with his own green glass. The tea when he poured it was a beautiful vibrant shade of pink, and Jane stared for a moment. 

"...It's fruit?" Bruce offered by way of explanation, a little bemused by the confusion.

"...I tend not to trust drinks that are that colour. Mainly because drinks that are that colour tend to have been ordered by Darcy and have very interesting effects on the rest of the evening."

"I promise my tea will not give you a hangover. It's fruity. It smells fairly sweet, but if it's a little bitter for you I have some honey which you could try adding a bit of."

She looked unconvinced by the idea of honey in tea, but offered him a knife to cut the cake. 

"I don't know how well they go. The tea with the cake does look a little bit like a rainforest flower or something, but either way. I'm sure it'll be nice."

Bruce smiled and raised his glass, toasting her politely. She grinned and returned the gesture. 

"As I recall, the Asgardian toast is 'Skol'."

"That sounds about right. That's common throughout Scandinavia anyway."

"You've been to Scandinavia?" Jane blinked, and Bruce frowned a little.

"Yes?"

"I just... had formed the impression that you only really went to hot countries."

"While I was on the run I was mostly in hot countries because the majority of underdeveloped countries where they are in enough need of doctors that they aren't too fussy and where administration is lax enough that I could hide without being found were hot, yes. Though I did spend a little time in Russia. But we don't need to talk about that. I went to a few conferences in Sweden and Norway before..."

"Oh, of course, I'm sorry." Jane felt a little guilty now. She had actually met Bruce at one of those conferences, the one up near Tromso. Erik had been there too. They hadn't gotten to know each other particularly well, but the usual pleasantries had been observed. It was easy to forget that Bruce had had a life before the serum really. Everyone knew it in some abstract way - it wasn't like he had always Hulked out when he lost control. Even for the people who had been a part of it though, it was hard to remember. 

Bruce shrugged and sipped the tea, rolling it around on his tongue, taking a few moments to savour it and think about other places, and another life. He had had three lives, really, and that was more than enough for any man. But this one was the one he would hold onto. This one was the one he was really living. 

"It's okay. I know it's easy to forget who's at what conference. I don't think I was presenting at any of them. I was just attending so I could ask awkward questions of other delegates. It's a past time that's always amused me. Unfortunately Tony's caught on and he's... he has the potential to be a lot more awkward than me. The reason that he's not really involved in the whole world of scientific academia and conferences and stuff when he fairly easily could be is that Tony Stark has the lowest bullshit tolerance I have ever encountered."

That drew a smile from her, and she nodded, taking a sip of her own tea. 

"This is nice. I mean, I probably wouldn't drink it myself, I live off coffee, and when I do drink tea it's usually iced. New Mexico gets pretty hot. But I like it."

"Well, you're always welcome to drop by and try some again." he smiled, and quirked an eyebrow. "Do we dare brave the cake?"

Jane laughed and nodded, gesturing towards it.

"Go on, you cut it. It's a present."

She had always liked Doctor Banner, but she had never before realised what a gentleman he had the potential to be sometimes. She had put her foot in it rather badly, but he had chosen, and she was sure it was chosen because he was far too sharp to have missed the error, to overlook her mistake and not draw attention. Everyone in this tower, with the possible exception of Thor, for whom it was kind of irrelevant, was very particular about drawing a line between their superhero persona, and the man - or woman - behind the mask. Or in the suit. Either way. They were a lot more than just names and they deserved to be recognised and treated as people, with all their flaws. Some of them, of course, had more flaws than others.

It was easy to forget really, because Thor was always Thor, so it didn't make a difference to him. For Bruce though, and Steve and Tony, it was very important. She was lucky to be so close to them all, to be part of a world that most people only dreamed of or aspired to, to genuinely know these people. She owed them the respect of treating them like people. Of being a real friend. It was nice to know, though, that none of them would hold her slip ups against her. 

Bruce offered her a slice of the lurid green cake, and Jane took it, prodding it suspiciously before taking a very small bite. 

It was surprisingly not bad. That wasn't to say she would let Thor and Darcy assist her in baking in the future, but it was definitely tolerable for now. And the smile on Bruce's face made it worth the E numbers. 

"Thanks for taking the time to come visit. I wasn't sure if you'd be busy." he said softly, and that was the man she knew. That was her friend, with whom she argued theorems at three o'clock in the morning because neither of them was sensible enough to be asleep then.

She nodded, and raised the cake for a moment as she swallowed, licking her lips for crumbs. 

"Thanks for taking the time to explain to the... man? Kind of man. I love about how to... make me happy? If that doesn't come across as selfish?"

Bruce shook his head. 

"That's how relationships tend to work, I think. If they're right, at least. If you love someone, one of the best things that you can do, one of the things that makes you feel warmest inside and makes your heart skip is knowing you have made them happy. I know Thor loves you, we all do. We all know you love him. This is... probably even more confusing than learning the dating customs between, say, China and India, or America and Brazil. There is, quite literally, a whole world of difference. You're both my friends. I want to see you happy. If there's anything I can do to help with that, I will. You know that."

Jane nodded and reached for his hand. 

"I know. We both know. We want to see you happy too, Bruce."

"You know, talking with Thor got me doing a lot of thinking. I never thought I'd be able to face the idea of a relationship again. I never thought I'd be able to /have/ a relationship again. But actually..." he couldn't stop the small smile which crept over his lips "I think... I might be ready to try again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cake or Death is obviously an Eddie Izzard reference. If you're unfamiliar with its genius, I recommend checking it out here:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZVjKlBCvhg
> 
> As always, here are the relevant tea and glasses (Bruce's remains the same from the first chapter)
> 
> http://www.moroccan-furniture-decor.com/prod_images_small/TG00271.jpg  
> http://t2tea.com/tea/herbal-fruit-tisanes/fruit/pumping-pomegranate-3/
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful betas (I would have had this up sooner but I wanted to make sure it was properly polished for you all).
> 
> Please check the tags: the next chapter will introduce a new relationship which had not hithterto been tagged. I hope it will not pose a problem for any of you in terms of reading and enjoying the fic. It may pose a problem for sanity related reasons because quite honestly the world is not ready.
> 
> Also, good news for those of you who enjoy my work, not just this but in general: I've now signed up to a website where I am committed to writing every day. So my productivity has increased somewhat. I won't make promises because it won't all be fic or publishable, but it might make these updates faster (maybe) and there will be other fics more often too. 
> 
> Much love as always, thank you all for your support, comments, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks. This is the most popular fic I've ever written, and I'm so glad it's bringing so much pleasure to people. I hope you continue to enjoy it.


	8. Darcy

"Hey doc..."

Bruce blinked up from where he was sitting with his book, taking the weight off his feet in an attempt to clear his head and work through the issues frustrating his progress in the lab subconsciously, to see a certain buxom research assistant lurking in the doorway.

"Hey Darcy, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well... Jane said she came to talk to you yesterday and you had really nice tea and stuff and that... well, you were good to talk to. And there's something that I've had on my mind for a while now so I figured that maybe you might be okay to listen. Doctors are meant to be good at that kind of thing right?"

He bit back the urge to laugh and gestured for her to come and sit beside him.

"Sure thing Darcy, anything you want to talk about I'm happy to listen and try to help you think through it. Want me to put some tea on?"

She nodded "Jane said you had this really nice fruity one..."

"I have a lot of nice fruity teas... I have a lot of nice tea period in fact. Why don't you have a look through here and see if anything catches your eye?"

He handed over the box, doing his best to at least put her at her ease enough to begin talking through things.

She leafed through the neatly labelled rows that he had stored carefully there, sorted into their categories of leaf and purpose. Eventually she handed over a selection and he set the right amount to brew in the pot, taking the case back and closing it up. 

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well... it's... okay, you're probably gonna think this is really dumb. I mean, I do, and I'm not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer unlike you, the greater of the two resident genii here at the tower."

He chuckled softly and shook his head "I don't think anything is stupid, Darcy. You must be forgetting that I live with Tony. He may be the other genius here, but like so many burdened with great intelligence, that intelligence itself is rather... specialised. He's better than a lot, probably better than me with people as a whole, but it's... nothing's stupid. Really. I also live with Thor. People think about things differently, that's all."

"Okay." she took another breath, hands twisting in her lap "Okay. If you're sure."

"I'm sure." He reassured her gently, moving to pour the tea, looking away to give her a chance to get herself back together. 

"...I've always thought of myself as being bisexual. I've always been open to... having a good time, you know? I'm not that fussy, if someone's hot, then they're hot, and that's great, and if they're up for a good time, so am I. But I've never really... wanted to actually be with a woman before. Like actually with, long term, relationship, more than a good night one-time thing, right?"

"I think I follow, yes..."

"But there's this woman now... there's... she's just... fuck. I mean she's perfect. She's elegant and graceful and beautiful and... terrifying, but seriously. I just can't... I don't know what to make of it because I've never had these feelings before. I've never had... I've slept with women, sure, kissed and danced and partied, had a lot of fun, but I've /never/ wanted something more serious until now and I'm just struggling to wrap my head around it, that's all."

Bruce handed her a glass of hot tea and watched her as she curled her hands around it, staring down at the jewel-like surface, inhaling the steam as a displacement from thinking anymore about the problem.

He waited a moment or two longer to make sure that she was finished, not wanting to interrupt her. It was very important that she said everything she wanted to. Bruce needed all the information she was prepared to give, able to give even, in order to be able to help at all. 

"So... is this the first time you've ever really wanted something serious with anyone, or just the first time you've felt like that about a woman?" that seemed an important clarification to make at the beginning.

"No... it's... well. I've never really been a serious kind of girl, Doc, you get what I mean?"

She glanced up nervously for a moment, and then took a sip of her tea.

"It's the first time I've even begun to think about it. It's the first time I've wanted to wake up next to the same person every morning. The first time I've had someone on my mind that I can't get rid of by going out and getting laid."

Bruce smiled and took a sip of his own "So... would it be unfair for me to ask who the woman in question is?"

"Um... well... hehe... I... kind of like... it's um... " she shrunk in her seat, ducking her head lower still, "Natasha..."

Bruce froze for a moment, trying to take that in. Well, he could understand it, it seemed perfectly reasonable, but the truth was honestly that he had no idea whether Natasha was interested in men or women, or even anyone at all. He didn't know if she was attached or not, if she did that kind of thing... but then, it wasn't Natasha he was talking to. It was Darcy. And she deserved honesty, as far as he could offer it, and any advice he had. Which, admittedly wasn't much.

"You're on a team with her, right? So do you have anything you can tell me?"

"The simple truth, Darcy, is that I honestly don't know that much about Natasha. She's a very private and... very complicated person. I don't know if she likes men or women, I don't know if she's attached to anyone... but I would say that the best possible thing you could do in this situation would be to be honest about it. If you like her, ask her out for a drink or something. Be open about your intentions. She doesn't take well to being lied to. It's her job to deal with that kind of thing all the time at work, so in her personal life she'd rather avoid it, which is completely understandable. She doesn't really do trust all that easily. She might not want anything; she might not want any strings... I honestly can't say. I don't even want to speculate. Natasha is... complicated."

Darcy nodded, looking a little disheartened.

"Just because she's complicated, it's not to say that you shouldn't speak to her." Bruce shrugged and sipped his tea. "That is literally the extent of my advice Darcy... I'm not exactly... a love guru or anything like that..."

"No, but Tony has a reputation worse than a porn star, and is crap at actual relationships though he has little to no trouble in getting anyone into bed." Bruce hid a little smile at the memory of his conversations with both Tony and Steve. Darcy had a point there. She continued, "Steve freaks out when he looks at a lady, Thor isn't from this planet and cannot wrap his head around the concept of dating. Clint may be like an older brother but romance is really not his strong point and his relationship with Tasha would make it really fucking weird to ask his advice. And I'm not asking Phil."

"Why not?"

"Come on, would you ask Phil a personal thing like that?"

Bruce elected not to answer that. In all honesty, yes, he probably would. He had come to trust Phil Coulson, they all had. The agent had never let them down, had the team's best interests at heart and was the only one of them bar Natasha who had any chance at controlling Clint. Half the time Natasha let him run free anyway because it amused her. Well. Okay. In that case he could certainly see her point. 

"So you chose the guy who has never actually had a serious relationship?"

"Well, bearing in mind the alternatives and the fact that despite my best efforts it was you not me who managed to get some of the principles of 'Midgardian romance' into Thor's head, yes, I went for you." Darcy drained her tea and folded her arms, "Problem?"

Bruce was pretty sure that was a sign that she had been spending far too much time with the assassins. For a moment the mental image of Darcy and Natasha together appeared in his mind's eye, and he almost dropped his glass. Perhaps they would be happy together, he certainly hoped so. But that didn't change the fact that if they teamed up there would be nobody and nowhere on Earth that would be safe from them. 

"No, no I don't have a problem, but I don't know what more you're expecting of me."

Darcy sighed and looked down, a little cowed now.

"I guess... the main thing was that I just wanted to hear that I wasn't fucked up. For feeling that way. That it was okay. I mean, it's a part of my sexuality I guess, but not... one I'd had to deal with before. I was just self-conscious. And worried. A little. Logically I know there's nothing wrong with it, but there's nothing wrong with it for other people and I'm not other people, I'm me which is different."

Bruce couldn't quite bite back a sigh, and he leant forward a little to close the gap between them.

"Darcy, listen to me. I'm going to tell you something which my very best friends have issues understanding. I still struggle some days. But you need to hear it because I think it might save you a lot of heart ache and difficulty in the future, okay? You are just the same as everybody else. I know you're Darcy Lewis, you're an individual, capable, incredible young woman, but in reality? You're just the same as everyone else in that when things happen to you that hurt, you're allowed to hurt. When things confuse you, you're allowed to be confused. It's often the case that the harshest critic we will ever encounter is ourselves. So... try giving yourself a break. This isn't that simple, or at least, it might not seem it. But you've thought of yourself as bi for years, this is just the first time you've actually been attracted like this to a woman. Fair enough. Step back, think about it, if it doesn't bother you, then don't worry about it. Just go forth and do what makes you happy. There are enough good people in this world that if people went out and did what made them happy more often I'm pretty sure we'd all be better off. But then again, there are enough assholes that it might not be worth the risk."

She smiled at that, and he allowed himself to mirror it, glad that some of what he said at least had gotten through, even if it hadn't been the main message. 

"You like Natasha. That's okay. She might not be able to like you back. You won't know if you don't ask, so go out for coffee with her and talk. She'll respect you a lot more for being honest about it than trying to hide it from her. Natasha has had enough people in her life who have lied to her about things like that."

Darcy nodded and stood. Bruce subconsciously mirrored that as well - after all, it was only polite to rise with your guests, particularly the female ones - but he was taken aback a little when she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him for a moment. 

"Thanks. I guess I knew what I had to do really; I just needed the little push. Jane was right. You are kickass at the whole advice thing."

She headed towards the door "Take care doc... oh, and thanks for the tea!"

Bruce watched her leave, unable to shake the smile that rested on anyone's lips after an encounter with Darcy. It was more than a little bemused, but very affectionate. He picked up the glasses and moved towards the sink, humming softly under his breath. Maybe it was time he thought about what he really wanted too. After all, there was no sense in being a hypocrite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags last week to foreshadow this, I hope you enjoy the chapter. I don't think it's among my best, but I couldn't work out what else to do with it for the moment and I had to strike the balance between perfection and not keeping you lovely people waiting.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think, guesses for the next visitor are welcome!


	9. Pepper

Usually the knock on the door inevitably came after Bruce had begun to steep his tea, when he was settled and comfortable, enjoying the breather and chance to organise his thoughts. 

Today though, he struggled to keep the smile from his lips as he settled opposite Steve. The captain was once more cupping his large hands carefully around the delicate blue glass, taking a deep breath of a tea that was, to him at least, hugely exotic and different. The smile he offered Bruce as he looked up was positively adorable, and Bruce could certainly understand how Captain Steve Rogers made people weak at the knees. Usually without trying too hard. Or at all. .

"Thank you for making the time to sit down with me today, I didn't want to interrupt your work or anything so this seemed a convenient time to see you..."

"Of course..."

Bruce smiled, and sipped his own glass, letting the liquid run over his taste buds, enjoying the nuances of it.

He had been a little surprised by the knock on the door to his lab of course, but when Steve had smiled earnestly and held out a bag of cookies, he had set down what he was doing and turned, quirking his head a little, to wait for the explanation of what he wanted. In Bruce's experience, people always wanted something.

"I just wanted to say thank you..." Steve began, "I really... Tony and I talked. We... went out for dinner the other night actually... that was quite a lot of talking really... and, uh..." he blushed, and Bruce fought back a smile of his own, "quite a lot of kissing, too. Kissing is... nice."

Bruce couldn't fight back the grin then, and he laughed. It was out loud, and pleasant. It felt good to really laugh out loud. He couldn't remember the last time he had had the cause to celebrate like that. 

"No, Steve... really, I'm glad. I was kind of... amused, shall we say, when you both came to see me in fairly quick succession about exactly the same thing. You really did have your heads up your asses, if you'll forgive the phrasing. I was privileged to help pull them out. Let's go with that. And I really am... flattered that you came to say thank you."

"Tony was going to come too!" Steve exclaimed immediately, almost defensively, "But he had a meeting to go to, and I think Pepper might have threatened to castrate him if he missed it, so I thought I'd come anyway... You... really. We owe you a lot. Even if it doesn't work out."

Bruce allowed himself a shy smile and nodded. 

"It was my pleasure to help. It kind of... got me thinking. I mean, I kind of gave up on a happy ending, you know? It seemed like it was the kind of thing that was just never destined to happen for me, and the incident was just the icing on the cake. Then I ended up here, and part of this... incredibly special family of broken people. Sorry, I guess that might not be entirely fair, but you can't really deny that none of us are normal. We all can act it in certain circumstances, in certain ways... some are much more convincing than others, terrifyingly so. But none of us are normal. So if people in this... dysfunctional family can find happiness, and can love without being terrified every waking moment that it's all going to fall apart, then maybe I can too."

Steve looked absolutely delighted at that. He hadn't thought, hadn't realised for a single moment that Bruce might have thought himself undesirable or anything like that. The thought that he and Tony had been able to give Bruce hope by solving their own rather hopeless case rather outweighed any offence caused by the description of the team, his team, as broken. He could see Bruce's point in the choice, but he was still... well it felt unfair.

They were settled down on the rather comfortable sofa in Bruce's living room and talking about everything and nothing, comparing experiences of a foreign culture which had once been their own when there was an incredibly business-like knock on the door. Bruce raised his eyebrows, eyes dancing and lips quirking in poorly concealed amusement as he went to answer it. His guard was down, and so the professionalism of it made him feel somewhat like a naughty schoolboy, a mental image which amused him. 

Pepper Potts was standing outside, looking for all the world as she did at any press conference she gave for Stark Industries. Bruce gave a little bow as he opened the door and ushered her into the room. He was a little surprised by her visit, but pleasantly so. He liked Pepper, but she was always so busy they rarely saw each other.

"Hey... is there something I can help you with Pepper?"

She turned to face him again and it was as if a mask had fallen from her face. Suddenly he could see the weariness etched into every movement, the shadows around her eyes, artfully hidden by makeup but deep enough almost to be bruises.

He hesitated, but Steve was already standing and beginning to make his excuses. 

"It was great to see you Bruce, Tony and I hope to see you at dinner... I'm sorry I can't stay Miss Potts, I wouldn't want to intrude..."

When Steve was gone and had closed the door behind him, Bruce showed Pepper to the sofa.

"I shouldn't really stay-"

"Pepper, if you don't sit down I honestly think you might fall, please do us both a favour and sit..."

She continued half-hearted protests but sank down to the cushions with a little groan which didn't escape his notice.

"I really..."

"Did you have a particular reason for coming to see me, or was it just for the pleasure of my company?" he smiled, trying to let her know he didn't mind either way.

She sighed softly, shoulders slumping and nodded, a little smile coming to rest on her lips at the humour. She could feel the tension wound tight enough inside her that she thought it might snap ease a little.

"No... I just... It's been a while since I've seen you and we never get the time to see each other anymore. I heard you were a good listener and I thought you might not mind... if I just... needed some time to sit and... talk."

"No, not at all. Would you like me to make some tea? It goes well with conversation... particularly with truths overdue to be told..."

The smile on his lips was honestly enough to make her melt and she was quite tempted to fall apart right then and there. She had been holding it together for so long, and for the first time since she could remember, she had someone else there who she barely knew but who was ready and willing to help her shoulder the load of everything. 

"That... that sounds amazing, please... are you sure you don't- you're not busy or anything?"

"I haven't got anything else I would rather be doing." he answered firmly, the smile widening a little, slow, and a little warm. She resisted the urge to pluck at the collar of her blouse and nodded as Bruce reached for the kettle and the teapot.

"I... I didn't just come to vent or anything, I am genuinely glad to see you, I just-"

"Shh Pepper..." his voice was gentle, and she could see why he was such a good doctor, "It's alright, I promise. We can talk about whatever you need to. You... don't look well. You're a friend, but I'm also a doctor. I'd... like to help you. Whatever you need."

She took a deep breath then, and it shook as she inhaled. She could feel the dam cracking but she didn't want it to. She wanted to hold it together, to keep calm, but it was proving rather difficult when faced with the kind of patient understanding she hadn't seen since leaving home. She knew this was ridiculous, she knew it was only because she was exhausted and hungry and stretched thin, but everything seemed so out of proportion at the moment that it was definitely too much. 

He was by her side in a second. It had been a long time since anyone had fallen apart on him, but seeing this strong woman worn so thin awoke protective instincts he had almost forgotten. Even Hulk raised his head in concern but Bruce was quick to placate him. 

"Pepper it's okay... it's going to be okay... breathe, it's alright..."

The tears were burning on her cheeks already and she couldn't stop them, couldn't resist as she was guided into a gentle embrace, head tucked against his shoulder.

He held her close, rubbing soothing circles on her back and not speaking, listening in case she needed to say anything, but words were beyond her for the moment and he understood.

Eventually the sobs subsided where they had shaken her whole body, and she shifted back, rubbing at her eyes and attempting to apologise.

Bruce cut her off.

"If it gets to the point where you need to do that, then it isn't something to apologise for. It's the alternative to falling apart completely, the better alternative. You needed that, and now we can talk about why. If-" he admonished himself, "that's what you want to do..."

"I think-" she took another shuddering breath and nodded, moving a little closer, "I think that's a good idea."

Bruce smiled and nudged a glass across the table to her.

"Here... it's still warm, should be about the right temperature to drink now... the thing with teas that don't have milk in them is they take longer to cool, and glass has a lower heat capacity than porcelain or china, meaning that the tea stays hot longer because not as much kinetic energy is transferred to the container, so it remains in the liquid-" he cut himself off with a shamefaced smile "...Sorry, you probably don't really care about all that."

She was smiling now, and it was a true smile. 

"No, it's... kind of cute in a way, to hear you ramble like that. It's obvious that you're passionate about science, and it shows through and it's... really... yeah."

She picked up the glass and sipped the tea quietly, allowing the liquid to roll across her tongue, the warmth to flow down her throat... It was as soothing as his voice, and it made her feel so much better.

"Thank you..." his own smile was dazzling, and it felt, for now at least, as if this was a safe place. It had been a long time since she'd had the feeling of a safe place. 

"Alright... so why don't we talk about what's bothering you Pepper?" his voice was gentle, and she couldn't quite find the desire to complain about the fact that his arm had somehow crept along the back of the sofa behind her shoulders.

"I think... it's just got too much. And I'm sorry to have ended up here and just become such a mess, but... I... I'm trying to live a life that I'm not cut out for, and that nobody should have to try for. I'm trying to be about three different people all at once. Nobody else tries to do that, when Tony was the CEO he never had to deal with everything I do, and that is not just because he never did the job properly. I am a woman in a man's world and I'm not ashamed of that, I'm proud of it, but it's /exhausting/. More than you could ever imagine. Beyond what you could comprehend," she shook her head a little, eyes closing again to fight back the tide of little incidents that threatened to overwhelm her again, "You get questioned at every turn in a way no man ever would be. You work ten times as hard, have to be so much better because if you give the slightest sign of weakness, then they won't let you forget it. It'll be like sharks at a feeding frenzy. I get told I look "tired", or too thin, too fat... I have to back up all of my ideas and proposals with facts and figures, prove myself, prove the company, and for every man whose respect I earn, there will be ten more who will put themselves in my way at every turn."

"I don't have time to eat, sleep, I barely have time to breathe some days... I lost... twenty pounds because I never had a chance to eat a proper meal, I'm lucky if I get more than four hours sleep because even if I get the time to sleep properly, I can't. There are nightmares, and memories, and Tony just doesn't... he doesn't get that I'm still cleaning up his messes as if I was his PA as well as being CEO of his company, and I don't have anyone to help me. I haven't found anyone competent, the best I ever had was Natasha and obviously that was only a mission... I can't... I just can't keep living like this Bruce..."

"No one should."

There was no hesitation in his response, and he was angry with himself, with all of them for having missed it. They used to see her so often, but she had been over less and less, and every time they saw her she had been more exhausted, more worn... he couldn't let it be like this. He couldn't let it be like this as a doctor to another human being, as a friend to a friend... he couldn't let it be like this because it was /Pepper/ and she /mattered/.

"I mean it..." he continued "No one should have to deal with that, Pepper. So you're not going to have to deal with it alone anymore. Never again. You're not alone. You've never been alone, even if it's felt like it..."

She stared at him like she couldn't believe what he was saying.

"But, Bruce...I..."

"You need a break. That's human, that's okay. People take breaks in the city all the same, and yes, there's going to be bad press about it. There will always be bad press about people who don't fit in with the rest, people who stand out... As a doctor, I am prescribing you a week's medical leave. I'll sign you off with stomach flu if you don't want any rumours about stress. You'll stay here, you'll eat, you'll sleep, and we'll look into finding you a competent PA and how you can delegate some of the things you've taken responsibility for."

His fingers brushed along her cheek, and she leant into him, eyes half lidded as their foreheads rested against each other.

"I'm tired of not being enough... of never being enough for anyone... I don't know what I did in a previous life that means I deserve to end up with this..."

"You are enough, Pepper," his voice was firm, but soft, "You have always been enough for me. You're enough for all of us, but /especially/ enough for me. You were one of the first friends I had here, before I even knew whether I would be able to have the team. Before I knew if I'd have a home, or a shot at forgiveness... I wanted salvation, but more than that I wanted the chance to be normal. To be wanted. And you gave me that, you even more than Tony because he is the first person to understand me and to /want/ to understand me in years, but he's not normal any more than I am, and you... are. You were just... normal, an injection of sanity, an injection of everything I'd been missing. You helped me when I never thought I'd be normal again. I want to help you. This is something I can do. This is something I can help with... thank you for trusting me with it."

She shook her head slowly, gradually faster as her disbelief fought back again, but the gap between them closed and suddenly lips were on lips, soft and warm and /there/. It was the closest either of them had had to a perfect moment, where everything felt safe and like nothing could harm them.

When they broke apart, Bruce's brown eyes were scared. He had wanted that, wanted her... but if he had messed this up, if he had hurt Pepper when she had come to him for help and betrayed the most important trust he had here, he didn't know what he would do. 

He was taken by surprise when she leant in again. If possible it was even slower this time, brush after brush of sweetness as her hand came up to press, palm first on his chest.

"Bruce..." it was a gasp, a soft gasp that went right through him, and he smiled shyly to see the acceptance in her own eyes.

"I'm sorry if that crossed a line..."

"No... it was... I... I started it, and I'm glad. I didn't know you... felt that way..."

"I didn't know I felt that way either..." honesty was certainly a feature of his personality, though whether it was an asset or a defect he was never quite sure, "Pepper I... hope you don't feel that I... took advantage... I didn't mean to... but... I... would be lying if I said I was sorry..."

"I'm not sorry either. I wasn't... intending to... You're my friend, that's above everything, that's the most important thing, but I... haven't felt like that in a long time. I'm tired of being alone, I want to be taken care of, and I... that isn't the best basis for a relationship to start from, is it? I..."

"The way I see it... it isn't the start of a relationship, it's just a continuation... we've known each other for at least a year now Pepper, and I have... you're a close friend, you always have been. I feel like... this isn't... it's not wrong. I haven't felt anything this right in a long time. I didn't have anything or anyone for years, and now I'm finally in the kind of place where I have /built/ a life for myself and I can take care of my friends. I haven't been able to do this in a long time and now I'm looking after people again, which is all I've ever wanted to do. I can take care of you, Pepper, and I want to. I can take care of you, because you deserve to be taken care of... will you let me try?"

She stared at him for a long moment, barely able to believe that this might be happening, that just as she gave up on ever finding someone to share her life with as anything more than a colleague or competitor, someone came along she had never possibly imagined. Someone who felt right. Someone who felt safe.

Wordlessly she nodded, moving into his arms, not quite throwing herself, but moving nonetheless, and seeking out the refuge from the storm her life had become.

Bruce nuzzled into strawberry hair and smiled, arms tight around her as his heart rose. At long last, then, things were finally working out, and that chance at love he had only just begun to consider had fallen right into his lap.


	10. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's never really been one for accepting help, even when he's managed to stick himself with the most dysfunctional family on the planet.

The lack of a knock before the door to his living room creaked slowly open meant that Bruce knew exactly who it was who had come to pay him a visit this time, and he smiled to himself. The red glass was already next to his own green one on the table, and he was brewing a nice pot of decaffeinated tea. He had a feeling that caffeine wasn't exactly what Tony needed right now. 

It wasn't that he had been expecting this, or that Tony had given him any kind of advanced warning, but... Jarvis had let them all know - as, in fact, had Steve - that SHIELD had asked the Captain to take another mission which would take him away from New York for a few weeks. They had said it was very important, and whatever case they had made had obviously been compelling enough for Steve to agree, in spite of his perpetual reluctance to leave his team. 

That meant that Tony was alone, though, and Tony didn't really do well at being alone. On the other hand, he was absolutely fantastic at it, or at least, at alienating other people. It didn't do him any good though, particularly with the issues he was still working through after the New York incident. They were all still working through issues associated with that, and the subsequent betrayal was felt quite sharply still by the whole team, for all that Coulson was back with them. In some cases more emphatically than others. None of them had flashbacks quite like Tony, though. None of them could remember exactly what it was to be trapped in something completely out of your control and plummeting inevitably towards death. None of them understood the thought process which he might have gone through as he flew the nuke up, more than likely /knowing/ at some fundamental level that he would never return. Some people were convinced that the universe reshaped itself around Tony Stark. None of the Avengers cared, though. They were quite happy with that so long as it meant that they got their friend back.

The engineer sauntered over to the sofa, dangerously casual as he took his seat. Bruce had learned to read Tony - they all had, but for Bruce (and for Natasha and Clint) it was the extension of a talent already possessed. It was always fascinating to study Tony. Steve was... well, he wasn't simple, that was unfair, but he was a good man, and lived by certain principles and thought patterns that made him predictable to those who had studied him for any reasonable length of time. Thor was fairly simple too, in that from a Midgardian perspective at least, it was difficult for him to be complicated. Bruce didn't have any objection to simple people; they were often a refreshing contrast. 

Natasha and Clint were... complex beyond belief. Natasha in particular was something like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and baked in a big cake of mystery. Something like that, anyway - the analogy suggested itself rather readily and Bruce's lips curled at the memory of one of his favourite books. Clint was simple in comparison, and Bruce felt quite a bond to him in a way. Clint wanted and needed family, any family, probably more than they had ever needed him before, until here and now and this fucked up group of people who were the closest to family any of them had ever had. 

Tony was in a league of his own. Perhaps not quite so complicated as to rival Natasha, true, but he still managed somehow to maintain the illusion of a public figure that was instantly known and predictable. He had the most perfect mask for that kind of situation that Bruce had ever seen (with one exception) and it hurt to realise how much of his life Tony must have lived like that. Bruce sometimes caught himself wondering what it was that had taught Tony to have it in the first place. Then his mind threw up suggestions which sent his own thoughts careering along dark paths and he stopped before his own flashbacks grew too strong.

Bruce poured the tea, and Tony took it with a flash of an easy grin, toasting Bruce with dancing eyes.

"Thanks, Big guy... smells good, what is it?"

Bruce had a sneaking suspicion that revealing it to be decaf would probably not go down well, and so he shrugged. 

"Black tea... Ceylon, actually. I like it, one of my favourites. I hope you do too."

Tony nodded and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent.

"It smells great," another grin, "any chance of a little sugar maybe?"

"I thought that was what you had Steve for..." Bruce arched an eyebrow and pushed a little bowl of sugar over to him with a spoon. 

Tony pulled a face.

"Yeah..."

"You miss him..."

It wasn't a question, but it didn't need to be, and Tony at least paid him the courtesy of not pretending otherwise.

"Yeah, I do. I don't like being apart from him, which I guess most people would probably think was pathetic, I mean, he's Captain America and I'm Iron Man, and for one thing nobody outside this tower really knows we're together, other than Pepper, Fury and Hill because seriously they just know everything, it's uncanny, but also because we haven't really been apart since New York and I..." his expression twisted slightly, and Bruce moved a little closer to offer contact if he needed it, "I don't... sleep without him there. It's... ridiculous, and it's been getting much better. Literally. I have been getting a few hours in in the lab, and still been sleeping almost at normal people hours, even if it's... not always continuous, but it's starting to wear on me a little and I guess I could just use the company."

Bruce nodded, understanding what he meant. He'd never really had the same thing - not having had anyone like Steve for a very long time - but when he was alone for long periods of time things were always hard. He had nightmares of his own, though he had left many of them behind, and when they dogged his sleep there was nothing to protect him, just as there had been nothing to protect him when he had been a child.

"It's okay... I get it..." 

He smiled, and clinked his glass gently with Tony's, taking a sip and enjoying the flavour of it rolling over his tongue. Most decaffeinated teas didn't taste it, which was a distinct advantage. 

Tony nodded and sniffed loudly, rubbing the back of his wrist over his nose.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. 

"Tony? Anything you should be telling me?"

"No, I'm fine doc..."

"I'm not convinced I believe you."

"It's just a few sniffles."

Bruce sighed, wrapping his hands around his glass and letting the warmth seep into the very core of him. 

"Tony, I know you don't like Medical situations, I know being ill feels like weakness and you hate admitting to it, but, in the nicest possible way, we need to know if you're ill, because if you're ill you need to take time off to deal with it, not cheat yourself of rest and nutrition, and not be spending hours in a metal suit being smashed against things by bad guys."

"That was once."

"You almost died. None of us can lose you. We've come close, and you know that. You know that none of us are willing to watch that kind of thing again."

"...Thanks, Bruce."

Bruce sighed and set his tea down, resting a reassuring hand on Tony's arm apologetically.

"I'm sorry, that came out a lot harsher than it was meant to. But I mean it, you're an intrinsic part of this team, we need you, we need you at your best, and there is no reason for you to push yourself like this because it will only make it worse and it's quite likely to work out badly for the team as a whole. Mainly because we care about you. For some strange reason."

Tony shrugged and glanced away. When he spoke next, it was softly.

"Steve usually... takes care of me when I've got a cold. No one else has ever really... wanted to..."

Bruce sighed softly.

"Just because Steve's not here doesn't mean you're on your own. I'm not Steve, but I'd still like to help you get better, if I can. I'm a doctor, and I'm your friend. Surely that counts for something, right Tony?"

"I guess..." he shrugged "Seriously though, it's only a cold, I'll be fine in a few days."

Before he could object, Bruce pressed his hand to Tony's forehead.

"You're running a temperature and you're a little clammy. Have you been having any issues in the workshop?"

"Maybe a little dizziness, but seriously that's nothing I can't handle."

"That's... not entirely reassuring," was Bruce's dry response, "Look Tony, you're not doing yourself any favours by pushing on like this. Take a rest, okay? Go to bed. I'll bring you up some dinner later. I could even come sit with you if you'd like, come with my tablet and do some work."

Tony hesitated, but nodded sighing.

"Yeah, okay, fine. I'll try to get better before Steve comes back; otherwise he'll guilt trip the crap out of himself about having to go off on this stupid mission. Just... promise me it'll just be you, okay? Natasha is not known for her nursing skills or bedside manner, Clint would probably try to make up for it by finding a costume for himself, Agent isn't exactly conducive to me feeling relaxed, and although Thor is without question my absolute favourite, he can be a little overwhelming at times and I'm not entirely sure how Asgardian medicine works."

Bruce laughed softly and nodded. 

"Alright Tony, alright. Only me, I promise. I won't breathe a word to anyone. If you promise me you'll take my advice, okay?"

"Sure, whatever. Can't be any worse than other stuff I've already tried that definitely wasn't medically advised."

Bruce tried ever so hard to resist the urge to rest his head in his hand at that. 

"Firstly, go take a shower. It might help clear your head."

He handed over a little brown glass bottle.

"Eucalyptus essential oil, do not get on skin, put a few drops in there to try to clear your nose a little. I'll go make some food that will reheat well in case you don't feel like eating and make your bed up. I know it won't be as good or as warm or as comfortable with the lack of super soldier, but I'll do my best."

Tony took the bottle and pocketed it with a nod.

"Right, essential oil, shower, not bots, not on skin, got it." although his smile perked up at the mention of food though, his stomach turned and he looked a little less enthusiastic. 

Bruce sighed and ushered Tony out the door, watching him go. He knew that when one was ill it was easy to not really fancy the idea of food, and Tony didn't always get on that well with it anyway. They had to try, though. Steve would probably be much better at it, because Tony wasn't the best patient in the world (though anyone would concede that Clint and Natasha were a great deal worse).

"Remember to come back when you're done..."

He picked up the two glasses and carried them over to the sink, washing them up. There was a chance it would be quite a while for Tony to finish his shower, and he just had to hope that he wasn't hit by a spell of dizziness while they were in there because he was pretty sure that Steve would not take kindly to coming home and finding that Tony had fallen over in the shower and split his rather genius head open. To be fair, nor would Bruce, and he wasn't dating the guy.

It was important to make something appetising but simple as far as food went, then. It had to tempt the appetite and Tony was notoriously hard to tempt when he was in a difficult mood, or even just a mood that didn't really involve thinking about the same things as normal people. He really wasn't... good with eating and sleeping like a normal person. Jarvis only reminded him when it was getting critical, and then most of the time he ignored the AI anyway, so the whole thing felt a little pointless. Soup. Soup would be a good start. Soup with a little bit of toast, maybe a bit of butter, and a glass of water. No booze, definitely. Booze was not appropriate.

Tony returned about an hour later, in sweat pants and a t-shirt which hugged the curves of his muscle rather closely. The dark circles around his eyes had eased a little, but not much, and he stank of eucalyptus. Bruce decided not to question what had happened to the oil, and made a mental note to ask Jarvis to order some more.

"Okay... how was the shower?"

Tony shrugged "It did help some, you were right about that, and I do feel slightly less like I'm actually a zombie, but I think in other ways I feel worse because I'm not a zombie anymore."

Bruce hid a smile and nodded, gesturing for him to come and sit down again. 

"I've got some soup on to cook, okay? It won't take much longer, and then you can have a nice bowl of that with a bit of toast, and get some sleep."

Tony nodded, fiddling with the tie on his sweat pants, not quite meeting Bruce's eyes as he hesitated.

"I'm... I don't sleep that well. Without Steve. Or in general. I'm not... good at sleep."

Bruce could understand that, he knew the escapism of the lab very well, and when he was getting by as a doctor a good night's sleep was pretty uncommon. Babies had a rather unfortunate sense of timing, and they weren't the only ones. 

"I.... If it would help, you can spend the night here, okay? If you need me there, I get that, and it's fine. You're my friend Tony, I know I'm not Steve, but I do want to help."

Another hesitation and then Tony nodded. 

"Thanks Bruce. I mean it. I know I'm an awkward bastard about shit like this, but I... really. I thought Steve was the only one who'd put up with it."

"I know you thought that. That would explain why you never say anything even when it would be good for us to know so that we can take the responsibility for you that you never take for yourself. I get that the lab is a safe space. I know what it's like not to be able to sleep because of the nightmares that constantly haunt any attempt at sleep... but you don't face anything alone anymore."

"I'm starting to get that."

Bruce grinned in reply and went to fetch Tony a bowl of soup and a couple of pieces of toast, handing them over with a fresh glass of tea.

"There. Get those in you if you can and then we'll call it a night, okay? I can sit up with you and get some of my work done while you rest."

Tony shot him a brief flash of a grin, looking for a moment like himself, and nodded, starting slowly on the soup. He would always think Steve made the best soup, because it was Steve's cooking, and Steve was the best, but still. Bruce was pretty damn good. And no matter how long it took Steve to get back from this damn mission, at least he wouldn't be alone.

Bruce ate with Tony that night and sat up debating various aspects of obscure branches of physics, having the most enjoyable evening he'd had in a long time. When it came time for bed, he had no objection to curling up with the engineer. After all, sometimes both of them needed a little help to keep the nightmares at bay, and Bruce had stayed up with far worse diseases than the common cold before. He was sure Steve would be back soon, but until then, or at least until Tony was better, he was kind of enjoying this chance to take care of someone like family.


	11. Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Coulson's turn! I know there are a few people who've been waiting for Phil, and there's also a nice little plot twist. Which also came as a surprise to me. Because characters in this 'verse seem to like being difficult. Particularly snipers. I hope you all enjoy it.

Things hadn't really calmed down much. If anything they had become a little more complicated. Steve was back from his mission - which was a definite plus - and he had been more than happy to take Tony off of Bruce's hands to make sure that he was nursed back to health. Bruce was pretty sure Tony was playing up to the attention a little bit, but he couldn't blame him. Tony hadn't had much in the way of positive attention in his life and it was probably nice to get looked after for a change. Steve was good at making people feel special.

Of course, it wasn't only Steve that had come back from that mission, for all that the companion hadn't yet moved into the tower. Bruce had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time though, because Steve had a way of doing puppy eyes which made it clear that people were under absolutely no obligation whatsoever to do what he was asking of them and yet somehow made sure that it got done. Besides that Tony was absolutely wrapped around Steve's little finger anyway. For now though, he was away at SHIELD, and as far as Bruce knew, some very delicate negotiations were taking place between Steve, Natasha, Coulson and SHIELD as a whole. He didn't know much more about it, but he was sure it would come out in time. Then again, they were already a time bomb more or lesss, albeit a less volatile one than they had been back at the start. If there was someone who was connected in some way to both Steve and Natasha, then the chances were that they wouldn't exactly benefit the chaos potential. But he was happy to wait and see whatever it was that was ahead, and cope with it as it came. There was no point attempting to plan for situations you didn't understand, after all. 

He was kind of surprised when he answered a knock on his door to find Phil Coulson standing there. He knew that Coulson had been away from the tower a lot, mostly in meetings at SHIELD at all hours of the day (and most of the night, which had lead to many vocal complaints from Clint until the situation had been rectified at least in part) and had figured he would be far too busy to stop by for something like a cup of tea.

He didn't hesitate to invite the man in, resisting the urge to do as Tony would have done and refer to him as 'Agent'.

Coulson thanked him, and followed him in to take a seat on the much-used and much-loved sofa. Bruce was glad that Tony had persuaded him to invest in one that would be built to last, rather than a second hand one with springs poking through the bottom. He hadn't anticipated getting quite this much wear out of it.

"Good afternoon Doctor... I hear you're a big fan of tea?"

Bruce blinked a little at the opening, but smiled and nodded. 

"Yes, I am. It's a love I picked up from a lot of places, I guess it's just something I could concentrate on. A kind of branch of knowledge that's not based on anything more than... experience, and preference," he shrugged and reached for the little chest he used to store it all, "Can I interest you in a cup?"

"Actually, that would be wonderful. I drink far too much SHIELD coffee. I'm pretty sure it's ruined my taste buds as far as that kind of things goes given Stark's despair over my 'lack of appreciation for a perfectly crafted espresso' - his words not mine. Maybe tea will be something that's more for pleasure than simply for functionality."

Bruce smiled and nodded, his fingers brushing over the many little bags.

"That's what I get out of it at least. I used to drink a lot of coffee, sometimes when I get caught up in research I still do but it's not... tea makes me take time over it, that's why it's so important to me. I have to think about what I want, I have to take time to boil the water, to let it cool to the right temperature, to wait for the tea to steep and then savour the flavours... coffee is instant, a caffeine hit right when you need it, and most of the time it's the caffeine not the flavour that matters. Tea is something you have to take time over. That's one of the reasons it's so good for me."

Coulson nodded, and Bruce offered him a little smile as his fingers settled on a blend.

"Tell you what, if you're a coffee drinker, we'll go with a black tea. That would probably be the best start to it. And you look like you need to calm down a little. I'll make some chai. It always helps me feel... warm inside, and calmer. Like I'm settled at home or somewhere else safe, and the spice is... reminiscent of a lot of good memories. I take what I can get on that front."

Phil smiled, and there was a little sadness to the edge of it which meant he understood what Bruce meant much better than he was comfortable with. 

"That sounds great actually, thanks."

"No problem." Bruce smiled and flicked the switch on the kettle to set it boiling, grateful for the swiftness with which he could get hot water. Tony's talent with tech had many benefits, but if you embraced the principle that the little things counted, then for Bruce just being able to get hot water so easily when in some places it had taken real dedication was something that made this really feel like home.

"Sorry I haven't been able to stop by and talk to you properly... there's been a lot of paperwork to catch up on, apparently it accumulates when you're dead."

Bruce laughed a little, and was glad to see Phil's answering smile. The happy expression rather suited him, even if it wasn't a traditional accessory to the formal black suit. 

"But... I've been meaning to. I've heard a lot about New York, and obviously I've heard a lot about you. We're meant to be working together now, so I thought I'd like to try to get to know you a little better..."

Bruce got the feeling there was a little bit of an ulterior motive, and he tried to ignore the nagging voice that was trying to tell him it was going to be another test of his control to see whether they would have an excuse to try putting him in a cage. He didn't really think the others would let that happen though, and so he would trust Coulson for now. He liked the man and that was something. Even Hulk didn't mind him too much. Besides, even if he did have an ulterior motive, so did most of the people who came knocking on his door, so he couldn't really judge.

"How are you and Clint doing?"

"Oh, we're good, thank you... he seemed... a lot calmer after he came to talk to you. I'm not sure what you said to him, but he started being a lot more like himself. He was... going to the psych appointments before, but I think he was just acting. After that he started actually answering their questions in a helpful way, maybe working through some stuff... obviously there are a lot of things he still won't talk about because that's Clint and to be honest I think it might be for the best. He doesn't have the best history with psych. Nor does Natasha to be absolutely fair."

Bruce bit back a chuckle as he poured the water into the pot, settling the bags to brew and taking a deep breath of the gloriously spicy scent.

"I think she told me about a little competition she and Clint had about seeing which of them could break more of the psych team. I'm presuming that... after what happened Clint gets a bit of a free pass. I don't think anyone on this team is normal, but..."

"No, they're not. Natasha is so far the opposite of normal that when she acts it she's basically approaching it from the other side, and Clint's so lost without a map that I don't think he's even close to doing that. The psych appointments now aren't about making him better because I don't know that anything could do that, they're just about getting him back to his usual level of fucked up. I don't think this team could work nearly as well as it does if anyone on it were normal." Coulson replied, honestly. Bruce was a smart man, and it was kind of nice in a way to hear what he thought confirmed by someone widely acknowledged by those in the know to be one of the smartest men in the world. Bruce had much better people skills than Tony, but then, Phil supposed, he'd probably had to. Being The Hulk wasn't exactly going to win friends and influence people. 

Bruce nodded slowly, fingers brushing over the glasses as he tried to choose the right colour for Coulson. 

The man watched him with a keen eye for a long moment, then hesitated.

"If it would be alright... could I have the purple one? That's the one you used for Clint, right?"

"And Natasha." Bruce agreed, setting it down beside his own green one and reaching for the tea pot.

"I miss him. He's out on a mission, and to be honest I'm glad they're sending him out again. Neither Clint nor Natasha do well with being caged. Going on to the next mission is an important part of their recovery processes, kind of like getting back on the horse, because it proves they're not useless, they're still trusted, they can still do the job, they're still the best..." Coulson shrugged, and cupped his glass in his hands, "It's a delicate balancing act though, for Clint at least. Natasha I think it might be a little less so because at a very fundamental level she is wired differently from everyone else... Clint, though... if he becomes so settled on doing mission after mission after mission because he feels he needs to prove himself then... that's not okay and we have to pull him out of the field, which is one of the most damaging things we can do to him." He stared into the amorphous patterns of swirling steam, "I just hope we're making the right call."

Bruce hesitated for a moment. This was more than a little out of his field of expertise, but he had to be honest about his own opinion.

"I think... well, when Clint came to speak to me a while back, I think he was having a bit of a crisis about what happened. Which is understandable. He was questioning a lot of things. He... was comparing himself to the rest of us in an unflattering light. He still carries a lot of guilt about New York, which is... which makes sense."

"It is... the thing is, Clint puts a lot of pressure on himself. He always has done, which I suppose is unsurprising given his background, but..." Coulson took a sip of his tea, the movement a distraction to give himself time to think of the right words, "He's... not had an easy path, not even after he joined SHIELD, which you might think would be comparatively easy when you look at everything else that's happened but... he was bullied a lot when he started. It faded off pretty quickly. He proved himself like I knew he would, and earned respect. Most of the junior agents were pretty good anyway, and the other senior ones on the whole were willing to take him as he came because they knew I'd vouched for him and the Director had requested him."

Coulson laughed then, the sound sudden in the silence as he interrupted himself.

"I remember when he brought Natasha back... people thought he'd been compromised, for a little at least, and then... well, she proved herself too. In her case it was less about bullying than inherent sexism faced by small women who are very attractive and appear vulnerable," the smile grew a little more nostalgic, "I still remember teaching her that she... wasn't expected to sleep around anymore. That she didn't owe anyone anything, didn't have to keep her place like that. It was a lesson she learned very quickly and delighted in teaching to others. I think we ended up with quite a small cohort graduating that year. Since then, SHIELD has tightened up its policies on sexual harrassment, mainly for the protection of people who try it on with Natasha, or any of the other female agents. You'd sort of think they'd learn, but..."

Bruce could imagine what that had been like. He didn't want to ask about Natasha's past. It seemed far too personal. He knew enough to be able to speculate about the contrast between what she had known before and what SHIELD had offered her. Coulson was a good man. Bruce was glad he had gotten involved. He liked Natasha, they all did, and they couldn't imagine her being any other way. Another soft sigh pulled him from his reverie.

"Back to Clint though. It's hard because... okay, we weren't expecting it as such. You can't expect things like that. You can plan for them though, and SHIELD has done but it's not the same as expecting it. It's part of the job. In the area we work in, and the situations and the people... agents get compromised. It's a problem, but it's one we have to be prepared to deal with. There are almost always deaths involved, and it's always sad, and it's always upsetting, but it is part of the job. You have to learn to deal with it. In the world we work in, people die. It's just a fact," he glanced up at Bruce and his tone softened slightly, "I guess you'd understand that though, medicine is similar... although you're trying to keep people alive, which we're not always..."

Bruce nodded, "Clint said something about the world of SHIELD being shades of grey rather than black and white."

Phil shrugged, mirroring him with a slightly grim expression. Clint had never been much of an idealist, that had been beaten out of him at a young age. In some terrible way, that made him perfect for the job. It still hurt to see sometimes. There were a lot of things about Clint that could sneak up on you without warning and stab you in the heart - he bit back a wry smile at that analogy; at least it hadn't been the back. Clint was worth it though, and Phil wouldn't stop telling him that and showing him that until the day they were both dead.

"There are procedures for dealing with compromised agents, particularly those who are being controlled, not just those who are being manipulated or coerced. Admittedly we're not used to such high level agents necessarily, but there is precedent. Clint doesn't realise but we know he was fighting the control, and we have evidence... he's waiting for the axe blow to fall and it just isn't going to. He's waiting to be kicked off the team, but aside from the fact that SHIELD doesn't want it to happen, I doubt you guys would let it happen either..."

Bruce took another sip of his tea, allowing the spices to roll warm over his tongue as the cogs turned in his mind. There was an honour to this, to being permitted to hear so many of people's internal thoughts, and it was one he had never thought he would have again. There was the weight of confidentiality of course, particularly with the people and the team he was dealing with, but that wasn't really a problem. He had never been much of a talker and... well, he had ways of dealing with things. It was nice to be accepted like this, by everyone, not just Tony or Steve... it was more than he had thought he would ever have.

Eventually he spoke again.

"I think... when he comes back, you need to sit down with Clint and tell him this. Go over it again, cement it in his mind. He needs to hear it as much as possible, that it wasn't his fault. That we don't blame him. That you don't blame him. That SHIELD don't blame him. There may be people at SHIELD who resent him or hate him or blame him for personal reasons, but the organisation as a whole, and those at the top of it don't blame him. Remind him he isn't in danger of being kicked off the team. He needs that to be emphasised. It's easy to think when someone's been through something like this that they will come to these conclusions on their own and see it as clearly as you can, but Clint doesn't work like that, and nor do most people when they're in that kind of situation. I think... it might really help move his recovery forward if he can hear all of that. Especially from you," Bruce shot Coulson a small grin, "How long have you two been together anyway?"

Coulson's smile was warm and soft, the affection written across his face.

"Ten years."

Bruce whistled softly and drained the last dregs from his glass.

"That's a long time."

Coulson nodded.

"We're very serious about it, but we tend to keep it quiet."

"I can understand that. I'm glad you're happy together. And I mean it, I think if anyone can help get it through to him that it wasn't his fault, and that he isn't blamed, it's you."

Phil nodded, and set his glass down carefully, moving to his feet again and smoothing his impeccable suit, offering Bruce his hand.

"Thank you Doctor, I'll certainly take your advice."

Bruce stood and hesitated for a moment before offering the agent a hug.

"That wasn't a consultation, Phil, that was a chat between friends."

Phil hesitated for a moment before accepting the brief embrace. It was interesting to see how physical his team was as a whole, but given the lack of positive contact most of them were used to experiencing, it wasn't surprised they reached out for it from the first people they'd ever really trusted. He was used to being cuddly with Clint, the rest of the team might take some getting used to, but after their reaction to his return from the dead, he supposed he probably shouldn't be surprised.

"Yes. Friends," another smile danced on his lips for a moment, "I really do appreciate it Bruce... and thanks for the tea, too. It was surprisingly nice."

Bruce laughed and waved him off towards the door.

"Go ahead and come back some time, we can try something else. I've got a lot of different kinds."

"I'll do that..." Phil nodded as he walked out the door, "I'll do that..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise the updating isn't quite as consistent as it used to be, but this is still the longest and most successful fic I've ever written. I'm still really enjoying writing it, and I hope you're enjoying reading it. I have a few other things with my beta at the moment, but they're all fairly depressing (sorry about that, it's what the muses do to me). I have a few ideas to develop in this, and then a lot more floating around to continue, as well as a few more associated one shots! I intend to keep this up for as long as people are enjoying it. The feedback I get really means a lot to me, so thank you for taking the time to leave it and be so supportive.
> 
> The tea for this chapter was inspired by the fact that I have actually started drinking a lot more different teas, as of about a month ago. Still not the range of experiences that Bruce has had, but more than ever before in my life! I've fallen in love with chai, and so has my housemate. It's delicious and warming and wonderful and I could drink it forever.


	12. Natasha

There was no knock this time, and Bruce glanced up from the sofa at a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, unsurprised to see Natasha slipping smoothly into the seat beside him. He took a sip of his tea and a glance at his book, noting the page number before closing it quietly and setting it aside.

He studied her for a long moment. Natasha was the hardest of the team to read in many ways. The only one who could give her a run for her money - other than Coulson - was Tony, and he had years of practice under his belt at a level none of the others had ever even aspired to. It would have been easy to miss the slight redness of missed sleep in her eyes, but it was something a doctor couldn't help noticing. It wasn't surprising - Bruce had picked up enough about the new arrival to know that it threw up unexpected confrontations with a past Natasha tried her best to ignore.

"There's some tea in the pot. Jasmine green. Do you want some?"

There was a tired nod, and in a way Bruce felt oddly privileged that she trusted him enough to let her walls down a little bit. He reached for a glass, and Natasha picked up the pot deftly, pouring it herself.

She picked the glass up almost immediately and took a slow sip, allowing her eyes to close for a moment as if savouring it. Bruce understood that very well. In this kind of job, in this kind of life, you had to take the moments of calm wherever you could, and the first sip of a good cup of tea was a perfect example.

He wasn't sure whether to break the silence, but it was pretty clear that Natasha wanted to talk about something or she wouldn't have come. It was true that sometimes people sought out company without the need for conversation, but Natasha did that with Clint, in that oddly symbiotic way the two of them related to each other. If she was here, even if she wasn't prepared to talk yet, she was here because she needed to be heard.

"So... how are things?" he kept the tone light, gentle, allowing her to deflect if she wasn't ready to answer yet.

Natasha took another sip of tea before even glancing at him to respond. It was the first time she had actively acknowledged his presence since she walked in, and even then he wasn't sure if she was going to change her mind.

"...I'm guessing you're aware of the new arrival."

"Yes, I am. Jarvis was kind enough to do me the courtesy of informing me that someone else was moving in."

"I'm sorry no one else thought to."

"It's alright," he offered a reassuring smile, "I know that he's been the cause of a minor furore of sorts. And besides, Clint and Tony both briefly stopped by to mention it. I think it was more that Jarvis was able to let me know straight away. People did think of it, but with the chaos that surrounded his arrival I can understand it not being a priority."

The frustrating thing was that he meant it. Bruce was simultaneously one of the simplest and most complicated people she had ever known. Natasha had grown to like Hulk, much as the rest of them had, but in some ways he still terrified her because she was powerless against him. Nothing that she had learned, the talents she had honed, none of it would work on Hulk because they were designed to target humans. Hulk was far more simple a creature, and simple was a lot harder to take advantage of than complex, and a lot harder to break. She had spent a lot of time studying human nature, not only how to exploit it, but also how to adopt it, how to have relationships with people. The greatest thing she had learned from Clint and Coulson was how to be human. Bucky had helped with that too. Sometimes, though, Bruce didn't fit those patterns either, and it threw her internal logic. It was never anything serious, only the derailing of minor pleasantries for the most part, attempts to sympathise, but it still left her a little wrong footed, and that was awkward enough at the moment.

"Alright. If you're sure. It was nothing personal, I'm certain."

She took another sip of her tea, and Bruce was kind enough to do the same, directing his attention elsewhere for a moment, to allow her to gather her thoughts.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Doctor Banner?"  
Bruce tilted his head a little, running his thumb around the edge of his glass.

"I suppose it depends on what you mean by ghosts?"

"Memories from the past. Memories that you believed long dead."

"I'm not sure. I believe that memories can and do exist, but the brain is a fickle thing and details might not necessarily be to be trusted. People, though... that's a different matter."

Natasha nodded, no longer looking at him, lost in her own world for the moment.

"And if... someone you remember... from a time when you can barely remember yourself, when you barely knew what it was like to be human... someone you remember, who was... someone you trusted. If they turned out to be someone completely different from the person you had known, from the person you remembered..."

"I can imagine that would be very difficult."

She shot him the smallest of smiles past the rim of her glass and took another sip.

"That was a very diplomatic answer, Doctor."

"I try to be diplomatic where possible. I find it pays off better than the alternative. I like avoiding trouble where possible."

That drew a laugh from her, and she nodded, titian curls bouncing around her shoulders a little. 

"I'm an expert at avoiding unwanted attention Doctor Banner, but sometimes I think even I could learn a few things from you. I was taught what I know. I was conditioned and programmed and practised... but you picked it up all by yourself."

"Necessity is the mother of invention?" he quirked an eyebrow in gentle humour, and was relieved when the smile stayed on her face.

"Something like that." she hesitated again, and glanced at the floor before meeting his eyes.

"Doctor Banner... I don't usually talk about myself. You know that. And I am grateful to you for respecting that decision. The whole team has been very good about that, and for once I'm pretty sure it's actually motivated by respect rather than fear for what I could do to them if they pissed me off. There are two people in the whole world who know about me, and it's going to stay that way, because they are people I chose to tell. That choice is important to me because for a long time I didn't know what choice was. The problem is there are now three people who know about me, and that's one more person than I am comfortable with. That's a violation of my choice, and admittedly it isn't an intentional one, but it... complicates things. And I don't like complications."

Bruce had originally been a little bemused by her habit of calling him 'Doctor Banner', and had wondered for a while if it meant that she didn't like him or didn't accept him on the team. Gradually though, he had come to realise that it was Natasha's way of keeping a little distance between them rather than anything personal. Natasha didn't really do getting close to people, which made sense. She did functional relationships and loyalty, and she was an invaluable part of the team, but there seemed to be some barrier which stopped her getting too close to people. Bruce could understand that. He had something similar himself. Almost every member of the team did. None of them really had any reason to trust people. It was just that Natasha took it to a rather clinical extreme. In her case, emotional distance was necessary to be able to do her job.

"I'm... glad he's back. He was the closest I had to a friend before I knew what the word meant. In a world which nobody could understand if they hadn't experienced it, he did his best to look after me, and I didn't make it easy." sharp eyes flicked back to Bruce's from where they had strayed to focus on patterns in the steam and allow the words to flow more easily, as if challenging him to question her further.

"I can talk about this because it's no secret that I am not normal. In some ways I'm not even human. It's fairly obvious to anyone who works with me for a prolonged period of time that sometimes I don't know how to think like a person, or react like a person. Most of what I learned about how to be human came from Clint and Phil. Now the one person before that who taught me any of those lessons is back in my life and I don't know how to react to him. If you betray any of what I have said to you here, Hulk or no Hulk you'll find the peace you long for. If I'm feeling merciful. I don't need death or even a weapon to make your life a living hell for a very long time. But I don't think you will say anything because you're not that kind of person, which is a strange realisation to have."

Bruce almost shivered at the weight of that trust she was placing in him, laying herself out like that. Threats held no fear for him anymore.  
"I promise I won't breathe a word."

The faintest quirk of a smile brushed her lips.  
"I know you won't. Just as I know that you will accept what I tell you and respect it without demanding more from me. Any links you draw you will keep to yourself, and I trust that your opinion of me won't change regardless of what those conclusions might be. I'm not asking or expecting you to like me, but we are a team and you are a good man. If I didn't trust you to keep this secret, and if I didn't believe that you would take what I was willing to give without wanting more then I wouldn't be here. This is a part of me that I am willing to talk about, with those I trust at least a little. I don't necessarily believe in hiding from those I work with the very fact that I had to learn how to be human because if they are smart or know anything about people, it's something they will be able to tell anyway. What I never do is show when I'm vulnerable. I don't know whether my trust in you is a blessing or a curse, but it is not something that will be easily taken away or changed."

Bruce nodded and took a long moment to consider what she had told him, to think about how to react. He took a sip of the tea and allowed it to wash over his tongue. Jasmine tea always had a way of clearing his thoughts.

"I appreciate that. But if I made a mistake... I wouldn't expect a second chance."

"I already gave you a second chance, Doctor." Natasha's eyes were sharp as the knives she carried when he glanced up, but they weren't cold. "After what happened on the Helicarrier I could have refused to trust you again. I could have refused to come near you, to work with you. I could have pushed you aside. That's what you're used to. It's what I'm used to, too. A lot of people can't work with me. They can't respect me, can't accept me for who I am. I... have the right, everyone has the right to be judged on skill. Sometimes I'm assigned to work with people who presume that because I'm a woman I will not be an efficient killer, that I won't use time properly or be capable of strategising properly and using resources. Sometimes it's with people who've heard about my reputation and think that it gives them the right or the authority to demand certain things from me which I am not willing to give." again there was the tiniest shrug of her shoulders as she finished, "But you weren't in control, and I know what that feels like."

Bruce nodded slowly. It wasn't a complete surprise for her to admit to that, even if it wasn't exactly going into detail. After what Phil had said, too... he didn't expect any more information than that anyway, to be perfectly frank, but... it made sense of the relationship between her and Clint. From what he had heard, they had always been close, but Natasha was not the kind of woman to forgive betrayal. What had happened to Clint and with Clint could have been seen as a betrayal. They all knew that Loki had claimed Clint had told him everything. Natasha hadn't even balked at that, and sometimes she gave the impression of not caring too much about it. It made sense for her to react that way if she knew what it was like to not be in control like that.

"You tried to stop, and for that I am grateful. Your control since then has been getting better all the time, and it really is impressive Doctor. It's not easy to master the self like that."

Bruce's lips quirked a little.

"You count my control of Hulk as mastery of myself?"

Natasha shrugged, her face expressionless as she considered her answer.

"All control comes from the self. If you can control Hulk, then you must have some of the strongest self-control I've ever seen. I think when you told us the secret was always being angry, you missed the obvious point. Everyone, including yourself, believed that Hulk was motivated by rage for all that the technical trigger was heart rate. That was mainly due to his behaviour when he manifested, which to be honest bore more hallmarks of fear than anger. If you think of him as an intrinsically angry being, over whom you achieved control by being constantly angry... there are people who might expect it to be that you were in flux rather than continuously yourself. If, despite being angry all the time, you still remained yourself... it would seem to me that it was because you knew at a very fundamental level who you were. And that maybe that knowledge has grown stronger. You've learned more about yourself and you're starting to define yourself in a different way. I don't think you could have the control over Hulk that you do if you didn't understand yourself, and, extending that to its logical conclusion, if you couldn't control yourself."

Bruce couldn't stop himself smiling. Tony occasionally waxed philosophical about Hulk and what he meant, but his were often from a very different perspective. And generally strayed into engineering territory, albeit accidentally. Hearing things like this from Natasha, who barely spoke to any of them in a social context, and whose first encounter with Hulk had been far from positive, was a real eye opener. There was nobody who knew human nature like Natasha, who had been trained in dissecting it. 

"It actually means a lot to me that you think that. It might just be the greatest compliment I've ever had. I'm still getting used to this aspect of having a team. You all see me, not just Hulk, not just a tool or a monster or a failed experiment... you actually see me as well, and it had been so long before you guys that I'm pretty sure I'd even forgotten what it felt like to be a part of things."

"I know what it's like to be an outsider. At least you once had somewhere you belonged."

"And now we both have somewhere." Bruce replied evenly, a smile resting lightly on his lips as brown eyes danced and he reached along the table for Natasha's empty glass, "We both know that's something to be grateful for. In fact, I think it's something the whole team is grateful for."

Natasha nodded, and hesitated for a moment, once more taking her time to weigh every word she said, wary of giving too much away.

"...He isn't who I remember. He isn't who I thought he was. I've had enough of lies, Doctor. I spin my life from them. I weave complex webs that ensnare those SHIELD deems it worthy to send me after... everything I am, everything I have ever known until now, until this, has been built of lies. Except him. I thought I could trust him, even if it was with the naïveté of a child. It was the naïveté of a child who has been taught in every conceivable way that there is no such thing as trust, that it is a human weakness designed to be manipulated and exploited. I trusted him, and now he is a lie as well. And I don't know what to think."

Well, that was more honesty than he had anticipated, but it was obvious that this was more the root of the problem than anything she had said before. It was a betrayal in a very fundamental way, but it wasn't one that either party could bear the blame for. In a way, that probably made it worse. He wasn't the kind of man to tell people what to think though, and Natasha certainly was not the kind of person who was receptive to that kind of thing. Like she said, she had had enough of programming and instruction in her life already, enough of being told what to think, what to be... he wondered if, in the same way, she had had enough of being told who to kill. But that crossed a line for now. It was unfair to breach her privacy like that, even if it was only speculative thought and nothing more. She had his trust, she had his respect and she had earned both. It wasn't right to take them away because of second guesses in the back of his mind he couldn't quite quiet.

"Would it help to speak to him?"

"We... haven't spoken yet. SHIELD thought it would be better for him to see Steve first, and let the Captain explain some of the current situation. I'm not even sure how much he remembers of the intervening period. If who he was then isn't who he is now, then the question is whether he is the man the Captain knew, or some strange amalgam of the ghosts from both our pasts."

Her blue eyes were cold again as they met his without hesitation, and she gave the slightest of shrugs.

"If he doesn't remember me, Doctor, then to be honest I don't know what I'll do. There will be a lot of pieces to pick up and there won't be anyone to help me do it. Not even Clint. There are parts of myself I cannot trust anyone else to handle, parts of myself which were entrusted only to specific people. There's a chance one of those people might have returned, in which case I have to deal with that fallout, and there's also a chance that he might have returned and lost those pieces along the way. I have little enough of an identity here that I can afford to lose what I shared with him, but if he doesn't remember... that means the memories are mine alone. And I cannot trust my memories of those times. I can't undo the things they did to me there, no one can. SHIELD deprogrammed me to a certain extent but all they did was pull on threads I had already unraveled. The people who made me could control minds, implant memories. He is a memory from that time. If he doesn't know that, then he could be a lie, and I'll have lost even more than I realised. I'll have to question everything. And nobody realises quite how much is riding on this, because it's easy to take for granted something which has always come naturally to you. Everyone on this team knows who they are, who they have always been, except me."

Bruce did her the courtesy of not flinching, though he couldn't fight back the burn of pride in this woman he called his friend. She was used to disgust when talking about things like these in such stark terms, he was sure of it, but he had to admire someone who could take formative experiences like those and fight tooth and nail to become something more, something independent, to take control. There was nobody like Natasha, and there never would be again - perhaps the world would be a better place for it. Perhaps it would be poorer for someone who was truly the pinnacle of human strength to pass from it, as eventually everyone and everything did whose time had come. Even Steve's would come, though it wasn't yet; and in the distant future, perhaps even Hulk would come to an end.

"I think there are more people who value you for you than you realise. Your world is composed, for the most part, of people like you, people who live in that world and share those lies. I know it isn't something you could talk about with someone from outside, but... I don't know. Maybe it would help to get a fresh perspective."

"On a situation I can't tell them about?" Natasha quirked an eyebrow.

"On you. As a person. Some ordinary people are more observant than you give them credit for. Some ordinary people are willing to take chances on those everyone else has given up on."

"Did you have someone in mind?"

"Talk to Darcy."

Both of Natasha's eyebrows shot up at that, and Bruce couldn't help a brief moment of self-congratulation at taking Black Widow by surprise. He was glad when the smallest of smiles graced her lips, though, and she moved to stand.

"Thank you Doctor," she offered him her hand, "I believe I will."


	13. Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless fluff...

It had been a couple of hours since Natasha had left. Bruce had made himself some dinner since communal meals seemed to have rather flown out the window since Sergeant Barnes had arrived. Bruce wasn't sure whether it counted as a return or not, but he was pretty sure that if it was then it would be a prodigal one. He'd met the man briefly in passing, and he had Tony's smile. There was a self-confidence there that Bruce almost envied, but he was comfortable in his own skin, more so now than he had ever been before. People like Tony and Bucky projected their egos around them, they were the kind of people who triggered your sense of proximity, you couldn't fail to be aware of their presence. He found it easier to keep himself to himself, almost as if they had huge beacons of personality and his own was small. Natasha was similar, and Clint and Phil could both do the same thing, almost as if they turned off their existence somehow.

He was reading a recent journal, trying to find some answers to problems he had run into with his research. There was another steaming glass of tea on the table. It was chai again; he liked it a great deal. There was a real familiarity to it, and the spicing never failed to make him feel at home. He glanced up when there was a knock on the door, and glanced at the clock before getting up to answer it, bemused to find out who it was paying him a visit at nine o'clock at night.

He was pleasantly surprised to see Pepper standing there, auburn locks tumbling over her shoulders with a small crease where they had been recently released from whichever implement she had used to keep them restrained today. Her blouse was unbuttoned at the top, and untucked from her skirt, and Bruce was pretty sure he had never seen her wearing flat shoes before.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late, I hope I'm not interrupting anything..."

"No, no, please come in..." he stepped back and ushered her in, much as he had the first time, although he had to admit she looked far healthier now than she had then. It had been a few weeks, and that was time enough to have made a considerable difference. There was something different about her like this though, a vulnerability that was not the same as the unwilling cracks which had left her falling apart on his shoulder. She was more in control this time, there was no doubt about that, but her smile came more easily without the armour of her couture suit jacket. She was a beautiful woman, but seeing her like this, a little glimpse of humanity... it made his heart melt just a little, and he had no qualms about sitting close to her on the sofa.

Pepper evidently didn't mind too much either, given that she kicked her shoes off and tucked long, slender legs up underneath her, opting instead to lean on Bruce's shoulder and tilt her head for a slow, soft kiss.

"It's been a while. And I'm sorry for that. I don't want you to think that I forgot about what happened before."

"I could understand if you wanted to move on-"

"No." her blue eyes flashed, but it was not quite as deadly as he had seen her be before. "No, it isn't that at all. I took the time off you recommended, and I made a few changes at work, but we're trying to set up... well, get the zoning permits and everything for a couple of new towers, so I've been back and forth to Los Angeles, Seattle... everywhere. I've not been in New York an awful lot lately. And I probably should have texted or something but I wasn't sure what to say and I thought it would probably be better if... the next time we spoke after that was in person. Because neither of us is really great at people or relationships, and I don't want to hurt you. I don't want something I say to be misinterpreted. You've been hurt enough. And to be honest, so have I."

Bruce nodded slowly, and smiled a little more easily than he had in the last few weeks.

"Alright, that makes perfect sense. Can I take it that you still... might want a relationship with me then?"

Pepper smiled, and it seemed to light up her whole face.

"I do. If that's okay with you."

Bruce's brown eyes lit up, and he brushed his fingers gently along her cheekbone, shifting his hand to cup her jaw and guide her into another kiss.

"Yes. That's fine with me."

He loved the feeling of her lips curving up against his, knowing he was making her smile. There were vestiges of perfume on her skin, near her ear, and he shifted a little to nuzzle close and lip at the pulse point there. There was no heat, no spark particularly, just a warm affection without demand as she shifted into his lap, legs together, angling herself towards him.

"I'm sorry it's been so long..." she murmured softly, and his arms came around her, drawing her closer to his chest, hands playing up and down her arms, her back, in the joy of touch and simple human contact. Neither of them was quite ready for it to be more yet, but the idea of being so close to someone else, of having the warmth there and the beat of another's heart had been sorely missed.

"I understand... I do, I understand, but I've missed you..."

"I've missed you too, Bruce... so much."

He finally eased back from the succession of kiss after kiss pressed between soft lips, and his brown eyes were warm as he gazed at her, crinkled at the edges with a love he couldn't quite suppress.

"What say we talk?"

She laughed softly and nodded, moving back to sit beside him.

"How about tea and talk? I keep hearing a lot about your tea collection and I've only had the chance to sample one kind myself."

Bruce laughed and lifted the chest out from where he kept it neatly stored beneath the coffee table. 

"Alright, tea and talk it is - will you go put some water in the kettle for me?"

She nodded, and swiveled her legs down, standing smoothly and sauntering over to the sink, his little electronic kettle in hand.

Bruce couldn't help but watch after her appreciatively before his eyes were drawn back to the tea and he brushed his fingers along the rows.

"What kind would you like?"

She glanced back over her shoulder, smiling again. She smiled a lot around Bruce, and he liked that. It left him feeling warmth in his gut; a happiness at being able to make someone else feel so happy in turn.

"I'll leave that to your expertise doctor, I know very little about what I'm talking such things. Perhaps something that encourages sleep would be a good idea."

He frowned again and paused in his consideration to challenge that.

"You're still having trouble sleeping?"

"Not exactly, but all the flying around has played hell with my sleep schedule. That's probably why I'm so awake right now." she carried the kettle back over, setting it onto its base and flicking the switch. 

Bruce nodded slowly, and calmed. It was a good reason. The worry which had twisted in his stomach for a moment was needless. Everything was alright. 

"Okay, so something pretty soporific... how about this? I used it on Tony a while back, when he was pulling one of his several day stunts."

"What's it like?"

"It's chamomile mainly, but there's a hint of citrus too... it's really nice with a swirl of honey."

Pepper tilted her head in consideration.

"It sounds nice but... I don't know, citrus always makes me feel more awake. Anything else that might fit the bill?"

"There's this one... it's a little more floral, a little minty... to be honest it always sends me right off to sleep, so I don't drink it very often."

"That sounds perfect." the smile she offered him wasn't dazzling, it wasn't a publicity smile, it was just soft and warm and honest. Intimate. And he felt privileged to be trusted with it. 

"It takes a while to brew too, so we can sit and chat while it steeps."

"Chat and cuddle."

He laughed and nodded, measuring the leaves carefully into the pot and pouring the water on top.

"Chat and cuddle."

He set the pot on the table and took a deep breath of the fragrant vapour, feeling himself relax as he turned to Pepper, who leant in to rest her forehead on his.

"I still want this..." she whispered, "I've had plenty of time to think about it, and I still want this. I still want you. Nobody has ever made me feel like this before. You just feel... right. Warm and safe and... perfect. I trust you. There aren't many people I can trust in this life, but I trust you. I'll need to go slowly though."

He nuzzled her gently, allowing his eyes to half close, reveling in her scent and warm softness.

"Slow is fine with me... I haven't had a relationship in a long time. And the last relationship I did have wasn't exactly a success, or particularly good for either party. You should know that there used to be some concerns about... well... intimacy and Hulk. I'm pretty sure that's... under control now."

"It's alright if it isn't. If we don't... it's okay."

"I have the drive as much as anyone..." he smiled, and quirked an eyebrow as he felt the heat of her blush, "I just wanted you to know that if it isn't always possible that is nothing to do with you, there's nothing wrong with you. My self-control is a lot better than it used to be in those days, and Hulk likes you. Hulk likes everyone here. He never really trusted Betty for all that he loved her, and I wonder if that was a factor in not being able to relax. But we both need time to adjust to this."

He felt her relax against him, and the brush of her lips on his as she shifted back again, still close, to smile and watch him for a long moment.

"We do," she said eventually, "We do... but that doesn't preclude us having a little fun and getting to know each other better in the meantime."

He couldn't help but smirk a little at that, his eyebrow quirking knowingly.

"Oh indeed Miss Potts? And what did you have in mind?"

"Will you go on a date with me? Like the old-fashioned kind?"

He laughed outright and nodded, stealing another kiss.

"I would love to. We can go on lots of dates. It'll be a good thing for you to learn to fit into your schedule."

"I'm getting a lot better with my schedule! I have a wonderful new PA-"

"Remind me to thank her."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Her name is Sarah. She's very good at her job. And she makes sure that even when I delegate stuff it still gets done. I'd promote her but I need her where she is."

"Makes sense," Bruce nodded, and reached to pour the tea, "I'm glad you found her."

"Me too. She's a godsend. And hopefully means I won't need to take anymore sick days for a while on the grounds of stress."

"I'll be keeping an eye on you to prevent that too, you know."

"I know," she shot a grin in answer to his disbelieving look, "and believe me, I'm looking forward to it. But I have to be practical."

"Practicality is overrated." Bruce grumbled slightly as he handed over her glass.

"I'm sure it is, but I am used to working with Tony, and somebody had to be the practical one in that relationship."

Bruce sighed and nodded, taking a sip of his tea and allowing the tranquility to flow through him. 

"Mmn... sounds about right."

They drank their tea in companionable silence, and Pepper snuggled down on his shoulder, eyes half closed in tiredness.

Eventually she shifted and checked her watch, groaning slightly.

"Oh... it's late..."

"How late?" Bruce moved to check his before realising that that would dislodge the rather beautiful woman on his shoulder and settling for the clock on the wall instead, "Oh... midnight already... wow... that went fast..."

"They say time flies when you're having fun... god I'm tired..."

Bruce hesitated, but after their earlier conversation it seemed like a reasonably safe question. They both seemed to know where they stood, after all.

"Pepper, would you like to spend the night?"

She glanced up at him, exhaustion plain in ice-blue eyes, but she managed a smile and a quiet nod. 

"Yeah. Yeah I would. That would be really nice."

"Do you have... pyjamas or anything?"

"Do I look like I came equipped with pyjamas? I could go down to my floor but it feels like an awful long way... can I just borrow a t-shirt or something?"

Bruce smiled and kissed her forehead, fingers scratching lightly at the back of her neck, loving the way she tilted her head back into the attention like a cat.

"Yes you can... I'll go get you one now..."

Pepper smiled, and shifted off his shoulder so he could get up.

Bruce returned after a couple of minutes with one of his old t-shirts. It was purple and worn soft with use. It had probably been at least partway around the world with him, and he held it out, leaning in for another kiss, unable to quite stop himself. Pepper's kisses were something special, something sweet and soft, and warm like nothing else. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to get enough of them.

She surrendered the prize gladly, laughing softly as she took the shirt from him and cuddled it to her chest, taking a deep breath.

"Mmm... it smells like you..."

His eyebrow quirked and he bit back a laugh, "And that's a good thing?"

She nodded, and rose on her knees to kiss his cheek again.

"A very good thing."

Bruce shook his head and laughed out loud, offering her a hand to help her off the sofa, his arm going around her waist when she stood.

"The bathroom's over there..." he pointed, and Pepper sauntered off in that direction while he headed to the bedroom to change in private. 

Despite Tony's repeated offers, Bruce didn't really own smart pyjamas. He also tried not to think too much about what Tony's pyjamas were like, or whether or not he actually wore them. He found that a comfy t-shirt that was several sizes too big for him and a pair of sweat pants did the job quite nicely. It was comfy, warm, and would do a reasonable job of providing some kind of cover if he ended up needing to Hulk out in the middle of the night. 

He brushed his teeth in the en suite, and very pointedly didn't think about the fact that Tony had thought it necessary to give him an en suite. Apparently it had its uses. Admittedly thinking about the en suite was probably safer than thinking about Pepper in his oversized shirt and probably very little else. Bruce was a man, and he definitely appreciated beauty when it was presented to him, but intimacy was something he had thought for a very long time would be denied to him. There was very little more intimate than seeing someone you loved wearing your clothes. 

That train of thought was swiftly derailed as Pepper walked back in. The fabric hung loose on her, as he'd expected, brushing the top of her thighs and hugging close around her breasts. He attempted to muffle the internal voice which pointed out she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Hey..." her voice was soft as she greeted him, and Bruce scooted over in the bed to make space as she climbed in with a brief flash of dark blue lace.

"Hey yourself, did you find everything you needed?"

"Oh, yeah. I know where Tony leaves the spare toothbrushes and things in the guest rooms, so I figured I'd check the same place in there just in case, and happily it paid off." she smiled, and cuddled close to his chest, nuzzling his neck as his arm wrapped instinctively around her shoulders.

"That's good... what will you do about clothes tomorrow?" he nuzzled her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling as her arm came around his side to draw them closer together.

"Mmmn... I'll head down to my floor and grab a change. Worst case scenario there's a change at the office." her response was muffled as she made herself comfortable with his chest as a pillow.

He chuckled and combed his fingers through her hair gently, soothing.

"You don't mind walking through the tower in my old t-shirt?"

She shifted back to give him a disbelieving look.

"Seriously? No. No I don't. For several reasons. One, I am not ashamed of this, of being with you, and it isn't anyone else's business. Of course, with this team it will become their business because they're protective of both of us, but I'm not worried. Because if any of them try to tease me, which is more likely than teasing you, I will make trouble for them," she shot him an innocent smile which he didn't believe for a second, "And two, when staying the night here before I have seen a lot more of many team members than I would have anticipated. Primarily Thor because I don't think he has quite understood pyjamas yet, but also a couple of the others. So really, nobody would have any grounds to call me out. Besides that Tony's seen it before, he also used to overwork so much that he would forget how clothes worked."

Bruce kissed her, lingering over it, over the plush softness of her lips and the way they curved against his, the mint tinge of toothpaste overlaying the tea beneath. Her mouth was warm, moist and undeniably Pepper. He still struggled to believe that this was real. It was all very well accepting that maybe he deserved a new relationship, another chance at love, but with someone like Pepper? He hadn't expected that, but then, it was Pepper here in his arms, not the Miss Potts the rest of the world saw. Nobody was perfect, but maybe perfection came from all the imperfections that made somebody human.

"Alright, I get the point... Privacy isn't a huge thing here."

"No, not really. But it's understandable, and you're all happy and have each other, which is probably more important."

"I think it is. It's good to have a family. That's something none of us are really used to. But we're getting that way."

"Mmmmn..." Pepper's agreeing noise was a little more sleepy this time. Bruce chuckled and flicked the bedside light off, cuddling down with her, unable to fight back a smile at having someone snuggled so close to him again. It had been out of reach for so long and then a whole group of amazing people had come into his life and transformed it into something infinitely better than it had ever been before. He stroked his fingers through her hair, over the porcelain skin of her shoulder, and brushed a final goodnight kiss on her forehead, closing his eyes and surrendering to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have discovered a real love of chai. Also, I really love these two and writing them together, exploring and developing their relationship. I would love to write them going all the way, but I don't feel it would necessarily fit well as part of this fic - would anyone be interested in seeing their first time as a oneshot?
> 
> Who wants to guess who's next? Let's bring back the old game :)


	14. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Natasha came to talk to Bruce about Bucky, it's Steve's turn...

Bruce had never had a problem sleeping since he moved into the Avengers Tower. Well, not really. There was the odd nightmare, the occasional night when he got up and wandered blearily for the kitchen and bright light and the company of Jarvis' voice or whoever else was sitting up that night, watching the city instead of tossing and turning in the face of their own failure to sleep. This was the best night's sleep he had had in years though. There was something about being curled up so close to another human body, feeling their pulse and breathing their scent, the tesselation of warmth in a way that came so naturally to people.

When they woke in the morning it was lazy, and they shared several half awake kisses before Bruce managed to lever himself out of bed in order to get breakfast for them both. It seemed the polite thing to do, and while Pepper knew her way around the Tower and it would not be the first time she had eaten breakfast here, technically she was Bruce's guest and so it was most definitely appropriate.

While he did that, Pepper in turn got up to take advantage of the shower and steal Bruce's guest robe so she wasn't just wandering down to her floor in his old tshirt and her underwear. She could have snuck down and showered there, but she liked the idea of staying in his rooms a little while longer and he certainly hadn't kicked her out. 

There was a knock at the door as she got out of her shower, and she hesitated but answered it, working on the principle that Bruce probably wouldn't have any objection to the other team members knowing they were together. After their conversation the night before it would have made sense for him to mention it then rather than waiting or leaving it unsaid.

Of course as she opened the door and met familiar blue eyes she let out a litany of mental curses. There was a law about things like this, wasn't there? Everything that could go wrong would go wrong. Because of course, if she was going to answer the door to anyone, hair wet, in a bath robe, and in someone else's apartment, it would be to Captain Steven Rogers, widely acknowledged as the hottest man of the 20th century, and well in the running for the 21st depending on who you asked. Opinions tended to be divided on the subject.

His cheeks turned red almost immediately and he looked away.

"Oh! Miss Potts, I'm so sorry, I had no idea you were here. I was looking for Bruce. I'm terribly sorry to have interrupted..."

"You didn't interrupt, Steve. I was just on my way out to grab some clean clothes from my floor."

It was quite likely he would assume they had been doing something, and Pepper found herself reluctant to correct him. No they hadn't been doing anything, but it didn't really matter if they had been, or at least it shouldn't.

"I think Bruce is just getting some breakfast. If he comes back while you're waiting would you mind letting him know I'll be back soon?"

"I was hoping to speak to the doctor privately, but..."

"Please, come in and wait. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. Then you can enjoy a friendly breakfast with the both of us before I head off to work and you and Bruce can talk about whatever it is you need to talk about. I know he'll be happy to help."

"He's a very good man."

"I know he is." Pepper replied, with a smile, "Please excuse me..."

"Of course ma'am..."

He stepped out of her way immediately, still averting his gaze, and let her pass. She managed to resist the urge to shake her head. Steve really wasn't like any other man she'd ever met, and she'd met plenty. Aside from the fact that she worked in a male dominated industry, Tony's social life had been pretty interesting in the old days before things had somewhat settled down. It was kind of nice to see a little bit of old-fashioned courtesy, and it had to be said, Steve was very good for Tony in a lot of ways she hadn't been. Pepper was very glad of that. Tony deserved to be loved, even if he didn't make it easy, and since Steve had come into his life he certainly seemed a lot happier.

Steve waited awkwardly, not wanting to intrude anywhere he had not been asked, uncertain of what to do when he was here unsupervised and technically uninvited. He was only waiting a few minutes before Bruce returned though, and the doctor blinked, a little confused to find an unanticipated super soldier in his living room.

"Hello Steve... um, where's Pepper?"

"She went to get dressed, she said she'd be back in a few minutes, I'm sorry, I had no idea that you were... um... I didn't mean to interrupt, I'm really sorry..."

The scientist laughed and shook his head, moving towards his living room.

"No, no, come in, it's fine. You can join us for breakfast. I went to get some coffee. I have porridge here, I wasn't sure what Pepper would want." he set the steaming mug down on the side and turned to Steve with a soft smile.

"Need to talk?"

The blond nodded just as Pepper rushed back in, already in a suit and on heels so high it made his mind boggle. She picked up the steaming mug, drained it and kissed Bruce, obviously hurried.

"Sorry, I've had a call in to work, I've got to go, apparently there are major issues at one of the international plants... I'm sorry, I'll grab breakfast on the way or something."

"No, not something. You will grab breakfast on the way. No skipping meals and not realising till lunch. I'll see you later, if you have time, alright?"

She nodded, and kissed each of them on the cheek, disappearing again, already on the phone to call Happy to collect her. Steve turned slightly pink as they watched her go and Bruce turned back to him.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb, I'm sure you've got stuff to do and everything, and I... I'm really sorry to have interrupted you and Pepper... I didn't know you were... uh... well, I guess that's none of my business, but I'm... I hope you're happy and everything... I wondered if you'd maybe have time to talk but I understand that you-"

"I have time. I haven't had breakfast yet. Pepper and I were planning to grab something but... would you maybe like to join me?"

"Can we have tea?" Steve's face brightened a little at the prospect of tea. It was foolish, but it was a nice little ritual and one that he associated with Bruce now. It would go some way towards making this almost tolerably normal enough that he could probably talk without tensing up.

Bruce smiled and nodded, walking over to his little collection and lifting the box out onto the table for inspection.

"Yes, we can have tea... what else would you like? I can make nice french toast. I'm afraid it'll be vegetarian, but I'll make whatever you want."

"I'm... kind of used to porridge for breakfast in a weird way..." Steve shrugged "It makes me think of my mom, and also... the home, and the army... all of it. Sometimes there was a bit more flexibility or a few more options, but porridge was always pretty easy to make and pretty flexible, so we tended to eat it quite a bit. Sometimes with fruit or honey, or a little bit of spice... it was all nice..."

Bruce smiled, picking up the kettle and taking it over to his little kitchenette to fill.

"Porridge sounds nice. It's been a while since I last had it, to be honest. What do you like on it?"

"Um... cinnamon sugar, and maybe some banana?"

Steve looked hopeful, and Bruce had to once again fight to hide his smile at the sight of Captain America looking so eager at the thought of something so simple, and as some would have it, childish.

"Sure, that's fine... do you want to pick the tea?"

"I don't know much about it..." Steve prevaricated awkwardly, and Bruce smiled.

"That's fine, I promise. Black tea is probably a good starting point. I don't know how you cope with strong flavours, personally I quite enjoy a cup of Earl Grey in the mornings. It's... got bergamot in it, so it has a kind of citrussy edge. It's nice."

Steve nodded rapidly, going to look through the neatly labeled bags for it.

"That sounds fine, honestly, I don't know enough about it to... whatever. I don't know."

Bruce frowned a little, glancing back from where he was measuring out oats and milk on the worktop, ready to heat and season them.

"Steve?"

"I'm sorry, I just... I really... need to talk... to someone, anyone, it's not..."

"I'm here to listen." Bruce's voice was gentle, and he offered a reassuring smile. 

"It's just... I don't know what to do. I don't know... what's happening, what I want, I'm just so confused... about everything, and I'm hurting and I can't think and I can't sleep and I can't eat... and it doesn't matter because those things don't affect me like a normal person, but it still bothers me and it makes things difficult and means I'm not as alert as I should be and I don't want that to result in someone on the team getting hurt, because I'm your leader, and I owe you better than that. I'd never be able to forgive myself if one of you got hurt and it was my fault-"

"Steve. Stop talking, okay? Just... stop, breathe, sit down. Measure out the tea into the pot. The instructions are attached to the bag. When the kettle boils, add half the water to it, and put the lid back on the pot. Leave it to steep. I'll bring the porridge over in a second. I promise."

"Okay. Okay, thank you." Steve was calmed by the orders, by having it set out for him precisely what he had to do. They made sense, and it also warmed him to be trusted with something as important to Bruce as the tea was. It made this easier, somehow.

Bruce finished making the porridge as promised, bringing it over with a small plate of fruit.

He set it down on the little coffee table, and went back over to the kitchen area, returning with a few little jars and the sugar bowl.

"I'm not sure how you like it, I know different people like different things. So I brought the honey, the jam, the sugar... there's a bit of salt there too, I know that is more unusual, but..." he shrugged, adding some fruit and a little bit of brown sugar to his porridge. The luxury of it didn't escape him, and yet again he was grateful to Tony for everything he had offered the whole team. He had given them a home, and in Bruce's case the kind of job and the kind of life he never would have dreamed of otherwise. He was all too aware of how privileged his existence was after life in places that were very different, where even water that wouldn't kill you slowly was a luxury. But he did what he could. He worked with the team, and in his spare time aside from a full time job at Stark Industries (though Tony was fairly flexible on that) he did the classes to finally qualify as an MD so he could open an emergency clinic for the underprivileged in New York. 

It was strange living in such a big, bustling city. It was one of the greatest cities in the world, at least, that was the reputation... Bruce could understand why it merited it, but as with London, Paris, with so many of the other classic metropolises, there was an underbelly of poverty, and he wanted to help. 

Tony didn't like corruption either, but he was fighting the battles in a completely different way and it didn't really seem politic to bring it up, so they didn't. It was safer that way, for the most part. 

Bruce checked the tea had steeped long enough and poured it into the blue glass for Steve and the green one for himself.

"Here... now, what was it that was bothering you so much?"

"I'm still sorry for this morning, I had no idea you and Pepper were-"

"That's not why you came to talk." Bruce insisted gently, and Steve shook his head, sighing softly and glancing down.

"No... no it isn't. I... I guess you know that Bucky's back now. I don't know... how much you know about it. Turns out he and Natasha know each other. Knew each other? I'm not even sure anymore. That came as a surprise though. Apparently things are a lot more complicated than I realised. I mean... don't get me wrong I'm glad he's back, I'll never stop being grateful that he's alive, that I could have him back, but... I watched him die. And... mourning isn't really a good word for what I did. I didn't have time to grieve when it happened. There was a matter of days and I was leading another assault, a final one. I had a few minutes to myself in the remains of a bombed out bar in London where I discovered I couldn't get drunk, and that the only solace ever open to soldiers wasn't open to me anymore. If I'd taken even a sip of whisky before the serum it probably would have floored me. But when I needed the drink, the oblivion, the numbness... it wouldn't come."

Bruce very carefully kept his own feelings on the subject quiet. He knew Tony had drunk, before. That Tony had had a similar childhood to his own, but that it had had the opposite effect on their attitudes to alcohol. He understood that Steve might have wanted it then. He disliked the thought of it being needed, but the appeal of numbness after such a loss was certainly something he could wrap his head around. It had been a traditional solution, one of the time and the situation, when PTSD had been dismissed as shell shock and left untreated, dismissed as a weakness. It was one that was taken for granted in a military culture that centres around alcohol for so many reasons: for courage, for medicinal purposes, pain relief, numbness, to forget, to celebrate... anything, because so many other things were not worth thinking about. He could understand that. 

"I didn't have time to grieve, I don't even know if I was really functioning in that time... I must have been, look at everything that happened... the final assault on the last HYDRA base, Schmidt's almost-escape... chasing down the plane, my first kiss, steering a bomb, watching a man get dissolved... crashing a plane into an ice field for the sake of the rest of the world. I made that call because it was the right one, the only one I could make. There was never going to be a safe landing for that plane. But I can't describe the relief I felt when I realised that. When I realised that I would have a way out too, that I wouldn't have to live with the knowledge that I'd killed my best friend, that I hadn't been able to get to him in time, that after all those times he'd had my back, I'd let him down. I just... I felt free. And so I crashed it. And I missed Peggy, and I died with icy water filling my lungs and scrabbling at a surface that wouldn't break. Only I didn't die, and I came back, and Bucky was still dead, and he was a war hero and so was I, but he should have lived, he should have been alive and it was my fault. And I dreamed about having him back, and I woke up with his name on my lips, tearing from my throat... and then he came back, and all my dreams had come true. Except in that way that dreams do they came crashing down around me, and I didn't know what to think."

Steve set the glass of tea down on the table, spilling some with how much his hand was shaking. 

"My best friend was back, but I'd killed him and I'd spent years carrying around the weight of that knowledge, that betrayal, without even being able to cry for him because it was just too much. I didn't know whether I wanted him to remember. He didn't at first. I didn't know if I wanted him to, but then, what right did I have to deny him that? He deserved the chance to make his own decisions, be his own person with his own memories and his own life, and I'd already screwed that up for him once... and he wasn't the man I knew and I didn't know if he'd ever even know my name again. It was pretty obvious he'd never be the same man. And that was... still is, such an odd thought. And I can't get it out of my mind, it's going around my head the whole time and I can't sleep, again. I can't... let it go. I can't rest. It's driving Tony crazy because he can't help, he doesn't know what to say..."

Bruce listened in silence and his heart went out to the soldier, to his captain, his friend, who sat in front of him, so devastated that he couldn't even trust himself anymore. Steve was the most basically and intrinsically good man Bruce had ever met, but he had no idea how to convince Steve of that when he was so sure he was a bad person for reacting to a situation in an all too human way. He had to try though. Steve had come to him for comfort, for someone to listen and a chance to order his thoughts. He had to try.

"There isn't really anything anyone can say to that... " Bruce began softly, and tried not to flinch at the pain in Steve's eyes as the man glanced up from his breakfast. "But I'm going to try. Bear in mind that this is... just my opinion, I suppose? I've not had any training on this kind of thing past being a human being. I haven't had any training with any of this."

"You're a good listener, and a good friend." Steve tried to smile, to put a brave face on it. He was answered by a soft smile from Bruce, who reached across to touch Steve's hand.

"Thank you... okay... Natasha was in here to talk about Bucky the other day too, and... I understand that it's hard on both of you that he doesn't remember, that he's not the man you knew. That kind of thing is even more painful than a simple loss because your friend is gone but there's a perpetual reminder walking and talking and sounding just like them enough that it hurts your heart every time you remember that it isn't."

Steve's hands were folded in his lap now as he fought to stay calm. Bruce was right, so right, but that didn't make it any easier to hear laid out in front of him so simply. 

"He doesn't remember who he is, not entirely, but he obviously remembers you, and Natasha, so he can remember what went before but... trying to reconcile those two things is going to be really hard, and is going to be something that he struggles to do. I think he's going to need you a great deal. I think in that kind of situation having people who knew you, who were there and who shared in the memories with you can help you remember yourself - the good parts and the bad - and enable you to become a whole person again. It's easy to lose your identity. It's not so easy to get it back. He's your friend; will you help him do that?"

"You-... you really think... that I might be able to help?" Steve's voice shook with emotion, and Bruce's heart ached for him.

"Yes. I do. It's... he can remember enough of who he is to have recognised you. I've heard you guys talking sometimes, joking, laughing too loud... he remembers you and he remembers Natasha, but he's lost himself. You were lost when you came round too, but... if he comes to terms with that part of the man he was, then you won't be alone with the people you've lost. People change over time. You were separated for a long time and both of you changed, but the kind of bond you had with Bucky when you were kids isn't easily eroded. Strong friendships can be picked up after time has passed as if nothing has changed at all. In this case, so much has changed, but you may be able to begin as if it hasn't and then work through the changes together. Communication is going to be the key to that. You have to talk about what you remember, who you remember, about what's changed if you can do it without pointing out things just because they seem to grate on you... get to know him again, the same way you would anyone else."

Bruce hesitated, and took a sip of his tea, once more distracting and filling the silence, giving himself time to think.

"It's... hard, because you might well have to mourn the man you used to know. And you never really did have a chance to do that because you didn't have time to process his death before the ice, and since then it's just been... hard. You carried the weight of it for a long time, and I know that. But I don't think it was your weight to carry."

"How can you say that?! I killed him, I reached and I couldn't-"

"Not being able to save someone is not the same as killing them. Murder requires intention, which you lacked; manslaughter requires inaction, which again is irrelevant. You tried. You were soldiers in a war. There was always a chance he was going to die. He chose to fight, and he could have had a way out but he chose to fight again, alongside you, he chose to follow you, and I... I don't know. But if I was going to die like that, I'd rather die alongside my best friend than alone somewhere without him."

Steve's blue eyes were pained as Bruce met them again, and he felt the agony like a full body blow. There was a catharsis there too though, some kind of spark of hope behind the pain. Maybe he was getting through to him...

"Do you really... do you really think that Bucky... might not be mad?"

Bruce sighed softly, but smiled and squeezed Steve's hand. He had to be positive about this, to be supportive. 

"I don't think he would be mad. I don't think he'd blame you. I think he'd just be glad to have you back again... Are you glad he's back?"

Steve nodded rapidly, almost defensively,

"He's my best friend, I thought... I thought he was dead, of course I'm glad to have him back."

"What gives you any reason to think he might not feel the same way?" Bruce asked gently, and some of the tension ebbed from Steve's shoulders as he hung his head in seeming shame.

"I don't... I don't know, I just... He says he's Bucky, and he looks like Bucky and he sounds like Bucky, but he admits that he isn't the same guy I used to know, the same Bucky who fell from the train. And I'm scared that he won't want me anymore. He's... known better things, better people..."

"He's known other things and other people. One of those people was Natasha. Nothing I have heard about Natasha's childhood leads me to believe that he's likely to have known better things. One thing that can be said for you is that you consistently undervalue yourself." Bruce patted his shoulder gently, "And you don't need to do that. Really. I mean it. You don't. You're... a lot better than you give yourself credit for. You're a great leader. No, maybe you didn't instantly gel with all of us and there was a bit of a personality clash. You were the first person to treat me like a human being and take me on my own terms. You trusted Natasha's judgment on Clint having spent the duration of your acquaintance fighting him, and having only known her for twelve hours if not less." He offered a slightly rueful smile "Time... kinda got away from me on the Helicarrier a little."

Steve smiled and nodded in understanding.

Bruce was glad to see the expression on his lips, even if it was incredibly fragile.

"You have always been a good man, Steve. That's what Bucky will remember. That's why he came back with you. I think... maybe you and he should talk. Just ask if you can sit down and talk about old times. It won't be easy, it might be very painful, but... that's... kind of life, in a disappointing way. If you'd rather have someone impartial there when you talk, then that's understandable and allowed and if you want me to I'll do it, or one of SHIELD's mediators could. Equally if you feel it's a private thing and it should just be between the two of you that's just as legitimate."

He settled back and drained his tea, setting the glass back down on the table.

"At the end of the day... we love you, and we want you to be okay. We'll do whatever we can to support you in that. If that means supporting Bucky too, then we'll do that. Natasha hasn't killed him yet and I'm pretty sure she would have had reason to. Well, Natasha kind of reason. Which is legitimate because none of us want to actually try arguing with her. But that's how she deals with personal relationships and we respect that. She has issues to work through with Bucky too. Maybe the three of you should talk. Maybe you and Natasha should both talk, or both talk with Bucky separately. Unfortunately, I can't wave a magic wand and resolve all of this, give you and Natasha both back the people you remember, or give Barnes a choice as to what he wants. The only choice he has, the only choice any of us has, is the one ahead of us. It won't be an easy road, but when we walk it, none of us walk it alone."

Steve nodded slowly, his hands curved around his glass as if drawing some comfort from it, the grip carefully gentle.

"That... that makes sense... thank you, Bruce..."

"It's okay..." he leaned over and gave the man a hug "Really, it's okay... I'm just... here to tell you what you already know. Nothing new, just... helping you see things differently. That's the secret to good advice, letting you figure it out yourselves."

Steve smiled and nodded, his eyes clear, though still rimmed with red. Bruce wasn't sure if that was exhaustion or grief.

"You're good at that. Thank you. I think I should go see Bucky. We have a lot to talk about. I mean, seventy years of anyone's life is a long time anyway, but Bucky has a tendency to... live life to the fullest, shall we say, so I think I have a lot of listening ahead of me." He shifted to stand, and glanced back, speaking softly, "You're right. I was hiding from him because I was scared of what he would be, scared of losing my memories forever, losing my best friend all over again if this man was nothing like him... but he remembered me, and the only way to know for sure is to talk to him. Bucky was my best friend. If this guy has his memories, then... I owe it to him to try. Thank you for breakfast, and for... listening."

"Always a pleasure..." Bruce smiled, watching Steve go as he finished his own food and began clearing up. It had certainly been an eventful morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry this took so long. I am sincerely, incredibly sorry. I had exams at the end of May/beginning of June, but I managed to get the first draft of this done. Then I had to rewrite it to fill in some plot holes. Then I sent it to my betas, and I only just got it back. We had a lot of work to do, so the delay is totally understandable, I just hope you can forgive me.
> 
> I fly off to China the day after tomorrow! But hopefully I'll still be able to update while there :) There might not be as many updates, it depends what my schedule's like while I'm there, and I'm travelling through the country in September, but I'll do my very best to keep this going. I still have a lot planned for it, and so long as people are happy to keep reading, I'm going to do my best to keep writing it. If there's anythign you'd like to see, feel free to suggest it - but I'll only work with it if it fits with the continuity I have in my head for this. And of course I'll credit you if I do :)
> 
> Love to you all, thanks to all the people who've subscribed and bookmarked and left kudos. I write this fic for you, I really do. I hope you continue to enjoy it :)


	15. Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is in medical. Coulson goes to visit Bruce for a break.

Bruce's days had once more settled into a fairly peaceful routine. He rose early, and took half an hour to meditate before a leisurely breakfast and some green tea. He spent the rest of the day fuelled on coffee, no matter what, and so it was nice to start the day with a clean feeling. 

He would head down to the lab and review the overnight data readings, adjusting things as they needed to be adjusted, and processing the data, analysing it to see if it held to his hypotheses. Once that was done (accompanied by a mug of very black coffee), he would plan the day's experiments and set them up. Some of it took careful timing, particularly the more awkward syntheses, but thanks to being a highly valued part of Stark Industries, he had the tech to back him up and automate at least some of the processes. 

Lunch - if and when he remembered - was usually a sandwich, grabbed in a rush from the staff canteen and another cup of coffee. He still wasn't as bad as Tony on the caffeine front, though that wasn't exactly saying much. He tried not to dwell on that comparison too much. 

The experiments were always scheduled - as much as possible - to end somewhere between four and five so he could go back to his rooms, put the kettle on, and savour a nice cup of tea, whether that was with company or without. Natasha had taken to dropping in more regularly these days, and she always brought biscuits or cake from the Russian shops in Brooklyn. Pepper too stopped by when her schedule allowed, and Bruce was always grateful for any time he got with her. They tried to eat dinner together at least once a week (the goal was three times), and some nights she would stay over. Those mornings after, his routine was a little different, but no less pleasant for it. 

He had finally been formally introduced to the tower's new resident, and was collaborating with Tony on the development of a new prosthesis. Tony had been considering moving in that direction for a while: it was a direct way to undo some of the consequences of what had come before. While he had the engineering skill and the materials to make them, he didn't have Bruce's understanding of physiology and anatomy. Bruce was consulting in the joints and how to wire up nerve equivalents or tendons; ligaments and muscles. 

It was the kind of life he had been sure he would never have again. And he wasn't sure whether he would be able to go back to what come before. Choosing it would be one thing, and maybe one day he would choose to travel and help the poorest people, but he didn't want to go on the run again. He had reasons to stay now, and people who would protect him. Most people still hated the Hulk, but... there were some who thought he was a hero nonetheless, and on the darker days, that feeling gave Bruce a little spark of hope.

This afternoon was a quiet one, and he was preparing to indulge a little in a quiet cup of tea.

He rose at the knock on the door, expecting to see either Natasha or Pepper outside. The smart suit of Agent Phil Coulson came as a surprise, but he stepped back to allow the man in, pleased to see him again. Phil was usually too busy to drop by much, but Bruce was always glad to see him, even if it was just at meal times.

"Good Afternoon Ag-"

"Phil."

Bruce smiled and his demeanour was instantly more relaxed, though he could not say the same for Coulson. Tension was rigid in his frame, telling in the line of his shoulders and curl of his lips. Bruce was surprised he wasn't cramping up with how much strain he must be putting on his muscles.

"Come in... Come sit down, you look... well..."

"Clint's in medical again."

Bruce struggled to stay in his seat. He hated hearing that any of his team mates were in the medical area. For one thing he felt it was his responsibility to help them with things like that, and for another he had a special fondness for the archer. So did Hulk, who let out an internal rumble of displeasure and concern. When he and Clint had first met properly after New York, things had been a little stiff, but Bruce couldn't help the echo of familiarity and protectiveness which haunted their conversations. He sometimes wondered whether he was imagining it, or whether this really might be the same Clint Barton he had once concealed in his closet from a group of boys twice his age who were looking for a convenient punching bag. Clint never talked about his past though, and so Bruce found it easier to avoid the subject.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thank you... a cup of tea would be wonderful if you're sure you have the time."

"I always have the time." Bruce moved to the kettle, checking the water level before he flicked the switch to boil the water and turned to study the slightly grey-faced agent. "More often than not somebody joins me for tea, this isn't the first time you've come either. It's a pleasure to see you. I think you need a little space right now by the sound of it, which is completely justifiable. Do you have any tea preference?"

"Do you have any jasmine? It reminds me of missions I... Clint and I did a mission in China about ten years ago. That was when we started... getting closer. The mission went very well, and we had some time left afterwards so we actually got to explore the city a little bit and get to know the culture. Clint picked up a Chinese vocabulary of... well, there is no other way I can describe it than a very Clint-like vocabulary. He could cuss someone out more comprehensively than half the taxi drivers in Beijing, and he could always order with complete confidence at any restaurant. But then, he's always had a special knack with food."

Bruce smiled at that and nodded, moving to sit beside Coulson and set out the two glasses. Purple and green side by side as they so often were, shining like jewels in the late afternoon sun.

Coulson was right about Clint's knack with food. Bruce loved cooking and had picked up a lot on his travels, from all over the world. He had a soft spot for proper indian food, and could happily spend hours hunting down all the spices in the international markets or little shops in back alleys. He and Clint often cooked together, and they had the kind of easy cameraderie which can exist only by people used to working together in a culinary environment. Some nights they took turns feeding the team, other nights they would swap recipes. Clint had quite the repetoire of dishes too, mostly acquired on missions. Where he found the time, Bruce wasn't quite sure, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. Nobody could make wonton quite like Clint, after all, and Bruce had a little soft spot for the traditional Chinese dumpling soup. It was just a shame that food was the only thing they could ever talk about.

He reached for the teapot, then paused, and allowed his hand instead to move to another box, beside the usual resting place of his cast iron pot. He opened it and carefully lifted out a glass Chinese teapot, measuring out the jasmine into the infuser and carefully pouring on the water, allowing it to steep, slowly turning from a delicate pale colour to a deep golden brown. He poured it before it got too strong, knowing that the taste could sometimes become a little harsh and grassy if it sat too long. 

He paused, and then offered Phil a gentle toast.

"To Clint. The best sniper in the world."

"And a good man." Phil echoed, as he clinked his glass gently and took a sip, savouring the familiar taste and the way it left him feeling centred. It was something he thought he should probably invest in, but dealing with the paperwork caused by both the Avengers initiative, and two rogue SHIELD agents who were masters of their craft but far too much trouble for anyone else to willingly take on meant that he was reliant on coffee as fuel, in the same way a plane or a car would be. He didn't have the luxury of time to take over tea, no matter how sweet the memories were.

Once a year, for their anniversary, Phil would take Clint to the best Peking duck restaurant in the country, and they would drink jasmine tea and eat duck, Clint showing off with the chopsticks and daring Phil to eat the duck brain. He always did. He claimed it made him smarter, but actually he just kind of enjoyed the experience, and it was the fact that it was a running joke with Clint that made it all the sweeter to enjoy. 

"It sounds like we're toasting someone who's no longer with us. Let's raise the tone."

Phil met Bruce's eyes gratefully and he nodded, face expressionless.

"It's not like this is a new experience for me. Unsurprisingly I've dealt with both Barton and Romanoff in medical with serious injuries. They both hate it so it's always a challenge to get them to cooperate which at least gives me something to focus on. But it doesn't get any easier to see them like that. It... it never gets any easier. And I wish it did sometimes, but I know it won't."

"There would be something wrong with you if you became somehow inured to seeing people you love hurting." Bruce said softly, "I'm a doctor, a lot of the time I deal with people who I don't necessarily know that well, or haven't for that long, because I was travelling a lot and working in deprived areas, but I'm good with people and faces and names. You have to be in this career, there is no other way. But it never gets easier, Phil. No matter how many deaths, how many mistakes, how many accidents or conditions that have gone too far, no matter how many people you can't save. It never gets easier."

Coulson's smile was tight and sad, but he nodded, and cupped his glass in both hands.

"I've seen them both in so many messes, you know? It's... hard, there is nothing harder than seeing someone you love like I love Clint, or even like I love Natasha, just... lying there like that on a hospital bed. I mean, to a certain extent I prefer it when they're lying on the bed, but that's only a very superficial preference. To be honest, when they're staying in the bed and doing what they're told is when I'm most worried about them. That means that there is something very wrong. When they start trying to escape I know they're on the mend again. Even if it pisses me off and puts them at risk and gives the doctors all coronaries. The first time Clint attempts to get into a vent again I can't quite fight back a smile because it's one of the best signs I could hope for.”

He took a sip of his tea, and clear blue eyes flicked up to Bruce's brown. 

“How much do you know about Clint?”

Bruce hesitated, unsure how much to say. He didn't know how much Coulson knew about Clint's background. He figured it was probably a lot since they had been dating for the last ten years and working together for even longer, and besides SHIELD would undoubtedly have extensive files on him. But equally he still wasn't sure whether Clint Barton, Hawkeye and archer extraordinaire was the same as the little six year old with skinned knees and a fading black eye he'd spent three short weeks with in the rotation between home after home before he'd been lucky enough to find a family who accepted him. 

“I... I'm not sure.”

Coulson blinked a little, and arched an eyebrow sardonically. 

“That's... not an answer I expected.”

“Well...” Bruce sighed “The last few years have been... taxing on a lot of levels. And sometimes I'm not sure what or who I remember from the old days. My childhood is mostly a blur. Apart from some parts which I wish were blurry. But there was a boy, younger than me, he was about six when we met. His name was Clint Barton and he had a big brother who led the other boys to where he was hiding. We... shared a room, and we were friends, or as close as you can be to friends in a system where you don't know who will or won't be there tomorrow. We were only together for three weeks or so before he and his brother were moved on somewhere else. I was fostered soon after. I wanted to write to him but I didn't have a forwarding address. I'm not sure... some days I wonder if it's the same little boy I once called my brother, or whether he's just someone with the same name and another ugly family history. So how much do I know about him? I know his name, his age, his boyfriend, his best friend, and what he's good at. I know he loves to cook and knows recipes from all over the world. I know he's one of the best men I've ever met, who holds himself rigorously to higher standards than he would expect of anyone else. I know he doesn't forgive himself when he feels like something is his fault and that when he's stressed he likes black tea. I know he was killing people for a living long before he joined SHIELD. I don't think less of him for it, either. That's.... about it.”

Coulson was frowning a little now, and set his glass down gently, looking interested.

“Do you remember which home it was?”

“It was called St Bernard's, which made me smile because I liked dogs. I think it was... mid '91. August or so.”

There was another pause, and Coulson's face broke out into the biggest grin Bruce had ever seen.

“You know he never forgot about what you did for him right? Even after Barney abandoned him and everything went bad, he always said to me that at least he had one good big brother, even if he didn't know where he was. He thought he recognised you after New York, but he... he figured that you'd probably forgotten, or if you did remember that you wouldn't want anything to do with him. He didn't blame you for it, he just... moved on, I think. Abandonment wasn't a new concept, so he tried to put it out of his mind...”

Bruce meanwhile was trying to wrap his mind around the idea that it was Clint, his Clint, the best thing that had ever happened to him in the entirety of his life before fourteen years of age. His mind raced, emotions tumbling over each other, competing for attention as he tried to process the fact that Clint was back, and he hadn't recognised him, and hadn't had the courage to ask, and Clint had thought Bruce didn't want to know, and they'd both remembered after all this time. It was too much. It was all too much. 

Coulson's voice broke through his reverie, and Bruce's eyes flashed green for a moment in defence as he jerked around in his seat, coming back to reality.

“I'm sorry, I just... I hadn't... I...”

“I'm sorry.” the agent spoke gently now “I should have broken that to you more gently. I just know how much it meant to Clint. I guess it's a lot to take in.”

“I hadn't realised. I thought he was the same, but... Clint doesn't talk about his past, so I didn't want to ask. I thought he would have forgotten. I... I let him down.”

“No.” Coulson's voice was firm “You did not let him down. Neither of you knew better. It's an unfortunate combination of circumstances. But you know now. And I think Clint would be really happy to have his brother back.”

“Yes, of course... I should... go and see him.”

Coulson sighed.

“I'm sorry to have dumped this on you. It isn't why I came. I just came to talk about Clint and not be alone. Being alone when I'm worried about him is not a good thing. The question was on a whim. I mean, it's a good thing that this has all come out, but... I feel like I did something wrong.”

“No, no, nothing wrong. I should... I'm not... you... um... you're welcome to stay and finish your tea, but I think I need some time to think.”

“Of course.” Coulson agreed quietly, and concentrated on draining his glass as fast as possible without being rude. 

Bruce stared at the golden surface of his tea, unseeing. He didn't know what to say but he appreciated how polite Coulson was being about the whole thing. It was obviously a sensitive issue for him, given how much it meant to the man Phil loved, but he was nevertheless being perfectly respectful of Bruce and his feelings too.

"I... thank you for telling me. I guess it never really came up before. Clint's a pretty private person huh?"

"Very, but I think it's understandable why..."

Coulson shifted awkwardly and stood, setting his glass down on the table.

"I suppose I should excuse myself. Clint's in room 1305. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you. He doesn't expect visitors. He's always surprised when I'm there, even though I haven't missed him once, unless I've been in hospital too and unable to fight my way into his room."

"Yeah..." Bruce's voice sounded far away to his own ears "That sounds like Clint..."

Coulson left in silence then, not wanting to intrude any longer, although he watched as Bruce moved slowly to his feet and tidied away the tea things as if in a daze. He had the decency to be gone before the good doctor came out of his room though, and didn't see him enter the lift and head out in the direction of SHIELD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's actually proving to be quite difficult to concentrate on writing out here, and my internet connection is spotty at best, but here is a new chapter for you all! I don't think it's my best, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. This is another case of characters throwing me curve balls. My original intention was not to go with this headcanon which I share with the wonderful flightinflame, but the boys decided this was what they wanted so I've done my best with it. You also get a bonus oneshot, and keep your eye out for a new series that I'm working on.
> 
> My experiences out here are informing my work, see if you can see the little hints of self-indulgence!


	16. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is one of the few people who speak bluntly to Tony when he needs to hear certain things said.

A few weeks had passed, and happily Clint was back on his feet and in the tower, causing about as much havoc as he usually did while in residence. This was, they were reliably informed, considerably less than he generally caused at SHIELD. He and Bruce had been somewhat dancing around the fundamental change in their world view, but they were making definite strides towards rebuilding their relationship. Neither was necessarily a particularly sociable person, but they had some things in common, and it was easy to spend time together, even when nothing was being said. There was also a lot of ground to catch up on, so when they did talk it wasn't as if they were going to immediately run out of conversation.

Bruce was happier than he could really express. It was strange how much one life could change in a short space of time. He'd gone from having no real home, no real hope, no real purpose, to being an internationally recognised superhero, with a beautiful, successful and independent girlfriend, his own laboratory, and the long-lost brother he'd never dreamed to see again. The role he had fallen into as the team's amateur counsellor (particularly given their intense dislike of the psych department as a whole) was a comfortable one, and he was always happy to see any of them.

The tower itself was fuller than it had been in a long time. It had been just Tony, with Pepper having an unofficial residence downstairs and an apartment offsite to get away from the damn place every so often and switch off from work. Then Bruce had moved in. Tony had asked, and it had felt... right, so he had taken the chance and made himself a permanent home for the first time since before the incident. 

Steve had been next, making excuses about wanting to be more central if there was an incident than he was living at his apartment in Brooklyn. Privately Bruce was pretty sure that even though he and Tony occasionally spoke various dialects of science in place of English, Steve found them reassuring to be around. He didn't know what it was like to be a man out of time, but Bruce understood very well what it was like not to belong, and he had made a special effort to make Steve feel welcome.

Thor had needed somewhere on Earth that wasn't New Mexico to be, and it had been only natural that he should move in with the team, into what he affectionately referred to as the Stark Palace. 

There had been a delay in the assassins moving in, until Coulson had reappeared, and the three of them just moved their things in without fanfare and Clint started spitballing people over the dinner table. Apparently the quarters were better than at SHIELD, and the food, and the company... Coulson had moved in with them, taking the role of official liason, and although Bruce was pretty sure the dust of whatever row (probably Phil-related) the assassins had had with SHIELD had died down a few weeks after they'd moved in, by that time Natasha was practically living in the gym and Clint had made best friends with the bots and Tony's biggest TV screen, so they weren't leaving either.

Of course, now Pepper was spending more time in the tower than out of it because after a long day at work, more often than not she just wanted a nice quiet evening with Bruce and maybe a massage. And Bucky had been found, interrogated, cleared, and moved in. It was a huge building, but with all the personalities in it, Bruce was still slightly surprised it hadn't been levelled yet, at least metaphorically, although with some of the egos involved one could never be quite sure. 

Bruce wasn't sure what to make of Steve's best friend yet. They'd met in passing a few times, and Bucky often joined them at dinner, taking Clint's route of showing appreciation for the food by devouring it enthusiastically rather than wasting vital time and breath on vocal praise. He knew what Steve had told him, of course, and everyone in the tower had been able to see the difference it made to the super soldier they all called Captain (despite regular arguments that there was no hierarchical structure to the team at all no siree). They'd also been able to see the difference it made to Tony and the way he was suddenly quieter, a little more cowed. Even after all this time, he still wasn't that secure in his relationship with Steve, and it could well be argued that there was no bigger potential threat than Bucky.

The knock at the door was quiet, but not so quiet that he could have missed it, and Bruce went over to answer the door in person. If whoever was there was so tentative that they were worried about being heard, then they were likely to find it difficult to follow an instruction to simply enter. 

He was a little surprised to see Tony there, head hanging low, beard scruffy. Tony was not the kind of person who had ever seemed to have that kind of concern for disturbing others. He believed the world reshaped itself around him, and in a lot of ways that was true, but how much of that was because of the expectation, Bruce wasn't sure. He enjoyed philosophy but he didn't enjoy headaches, and circular arguments were a surefire way of getting one. 

"Hey, Tony... Come in..."

"I can go if you're busy, doc. Jarvis says you're working on some really cool stuff at the moment. I wouldn't want to disturb at all."

"Tony, just come in, and sit down."

"Got any coffee?"

"No, it's tea time. You know that or you wouldn't be here."

The engineer shrugged morosely.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Doc. I haven't exactly been doing the best job of keeping track of time recently."

"Just come in, sit down, drink something, possibly eat something, and sleep. Talking would also be good. It's not optional because I don't think you'll sleep without it. But the priority right now is getting you back to something like a normal person."

"...Fine." the response was fairly sullen, but Tony was halfway across the room by the time he'd said it, and Bruce could read the relief in every line of his frame as he flopped down into the sofa, crossing his legs and folding his arms defensively.

Bruce moved much more slowly, and poured the water into the pot to steep the tea before he took his own seat, methodically setting out their glasses. 

"It's fruit tea."

"Oh dear god, spare me. Why isn't it something with caffeine in it."

"Because the last thing you need right now is caffeine, and I wanted fruit tea, and it's my tea, so you don't actually get a say in the matter." 

Came the mild response, and Bruce's eyes danced a little with the humour. He missed playing like this. He was surrounded by intelligent people, but Tony was the best match for him intellectually, and there was still an incredible freedom in feeling secure enough to let his sense of humour show.

He filled the glasses, and Tony only waited a few moments - long enough to let the glass cool enough to pick up - before he picked it up, cupping it in both hands and letting the warmth that was just this side of unbearable soak into him and ease his muscles.

"I miss Steve."

"He misses you too. He thinks you're avoiding him."

"I am avoiding him. I still miss him."

"Why are you avoiding him?"

"Maybe because if I avoid him he can't break up with me."

"Why are you so sure he's going to break up with you?"

"There are a lot of reasons." Tony replied defensively, then sighed, his tone softer, wistful as he repeated "...a lot of reasons."

"Such as what?" Bruce gently but firmly demanded an explanation.

"...It's Bucky. His best friend. The guy he loved for longer than either of them have technically been alive, I know that doesn't make sense, don't even think of calling me up on it, the guy who was his first kiss and his best friend and always had his back and understands Steve in a way that I never could and knows things about him that I can never understand. Bucky Barnes is a hero, so is Captain America. I'm a genius billionaire playboy with an attitude problem and blood staining his hands so deep it'll never come off."

Bruce sighed, watching him for a long moment. There was defeat in the line of Tony's mouth, the slump of his shoulders, and a sadness in his eyes that Bruce had never seen before.

"Do you really believe that?"

"I'm not seeing much evidence to the contrary."

"Tony... there is a lot of evidence to the contrary, on a lot of fronts. You're letting your issues blind you to the real situation. Steve loves you. Steve is worried about you. Steve spends half his life sitting outside your workshop door and the other half cuddling the toaster."

Tony snorted, but Bruce raised his eyebrow, not buying the scepticism for a moment.

"Jarvis, please show Tony the feeds from outside the workshop."

"Of course, Doctor Banner."

A blue 'screen' flickered into existence in front of them, and Jarvis projected the footage onto it. Tony blinked, brown eyes widening a little, and he tossed his head and glanced away.

"That proves nothing."

"You know that's not the case, that's why you want to ignore it. The problem is that you let us all in, and now you're stuck with us, and no matter how much you ignore us we will not go away. Steve is persistent and Clint's main hobby is finding new ways to be annoying so he can remind the world he exists. Thor eats even more than the enhanced super soldier, perpetually sounds like he's talking through a megaphone, and makes loud crashing noises when he drops Mjolnir."

Bruce sipped his tea, swirling it over his tongue to savour the flavour of it.

"Steve loves you. You mooned around after each other for quite long enough, and finally you both pulled your heads out of your asses and I had never seen you so happy. Nobody had. Pepper hadn't. Rhodey hadn't. He is good for you. And now you're rejecting all of that because if you think there's a chance somebody might leave you, you try to leave them first so you're in control. But he's not going to leave you and you can't escape him because for better or worse he's your teammate and your captain and he lives here."

"Last time I checked, this was my tower, and I could determine who lived here." Tony's lips were curving up just a little at the corners, though he still wouldn't meet Bruce's eyes.

The doctor's eyes danced as he fought to keep a straight face.

"That's what you think."

"You are all horrible and getting involved in this was a terrible mistake."

"We know." Bruce replied cheerfully, toasting him, "I'm pretty sure this is some kind of penance for something we all did either individually or collaboratively in a past life, but we're stuck with it right now, and it's not going to go away that easily. None of us have anything apart from each other, not things that matter. The one who has the most of us is you. You have Pepper and Rhodey and the bots and Jarvis, you have a home..."

"I have a building."

"Well now it's a home."

"I should have known when I came down and there was a pair of dirty boxers on my glass coffee table. I mean, seriously, dirty ones?! Clean ones that were left there on the way back from the laundry, I could understand. Dirty ones I do not want to dwell on. And I'm pretty sure they're Thor's which is a whole new level of do not want."

"I would have thought the increased food bills would have given it away, personally."

Tony held up a finger, stabbing the air.

"...That was my second clue."

He shifted a little where he sat, angling his body towards Bruce, the language shifting slightly to become more receptive, more open.

Bruce studied him for a long moment.

"You haven't been sleeping."

"Of course I haven't been sleeping. I don't sleep."

"You did with Steve."

"That's because he made the nightmares go away."

"So go ask him to take a nap with you. I guarantee he'd be more than happy."

"He's busy with his friend." Tony's face twisted, shutting down again, but Bruce wasn't about to let him shut himself off again.

"Oh no. No no. Friend. Just friend. That's all. Nothing more. He chose you."

"Bucky wasn't here when he chose me."

"And he's been mooning after you with Bucky right there. He wants you."

"Then he's insane."

"I don't think anybody on this team is a poster child for sanity or good life choices."

Tony sighed, and looked hesitantly up through his lashes, his brown eyes earnest, nervous. He swallowed.

"You really think he wants me?"

"Yes."

"Even now?"

"Yes, Tony."

Tony sighed, staring into his tea for a long moment... then drained it.

"Fine, I suppose I've got to get used to yet another enhanced asshole around. But he needs a haircut, seriously, it's awful. Not like we're short of space or anything, but he is /not/ walking around with that /thing/ on his arm, it is a personal affront to all that is holy. Jesus. Seriously. It's like someone deliberately designed it to piss me off and make me take frustrated pity on the guy."

Bruce refrained from pointing out that the Soviet forces would have been unlikely to have been able to predict Tony Stark, not least because nobody could predict Tony Stark, even on a good day.

Tony got up, setting the glass back down on the table.

"Thanks Doc. I've got to head down to the workshop, I have a prosthesis to make. Actually, don't suppose you wanna come with? You understand how joints work and shit, you can help me make it better... maybe we could start developing a line of them, it'd be a good way to start making real, practical amends for all the shit that happened with the weapons and stuff, the number of veterans that need decent prostheses... could start a charitable drive or something, maybe make it part of the Maria Stark Foundation's next campaign..."

Bruce watched Tony wander away, then drained his glass in a hurry and moved to follow. The idea of getting involved in a project like that which would have such a tangible effect on so many people was one which appealed hugely to him. And he didn't really work with Tony much, so it would be nice to do something together and do some real good for the world. It might not be his usual kind of thing, but it could use his knowledge, and any chance to make a positive difference was one he welcomed. Besides, his own lab was lonely in comparison to the workshop, Dummy never came to investigate what he was doing there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> China is still great! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, I hope it shows and that you enjoy it, sorry for the slow updates, there's more in the pipeline, I promise! Hope you're all well, feel free to ask me anything in the comments, and please enjoy!


	17. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the long awaited Winter Soldier pays his visit. And he has a lot to get off his chest.
> 
> Warnings for implied noncon/sexual abuse (not of a minor) in the past, and not of or by either of the two main characters (basically Howard Stark was an asshole)

The world changed a lot in seventy years, and that was bad enough when you slept through the whole thing and woke up to find out how different it was. But then again... it was probably worse when you woke up to find you had lived through the last seventy years with no memory of it at all, or only fragments at best. Finding out that another person you had no knowledge of had seemingly taken over your existence at will and become an infamous assassin didn't really do much to soothe the spirit, even of a soldier.

When Bucky Barnes returned to himself in a back room somewhere in Russia, the only memories he had at all centred around two people. One was an old friend who had to be dead by now if the calendar on the wall was anything to go by. Besides, Steve's health had been bad anyway, even if he had undergone some miraculous transformation. The other... well, he didn't know what could have happened to her. Any number of things really. She wouldn't wake up in the same way he had because for her there had been nothing that had gone before. And if they did meet again he was about 99% sure he would end up dead. That figure was pretty irrespective of orders. The orders were likely to be to eliminate him anyway, but equally... she had never really had much tolerance for his stupidity. Except for those brief moments in the dark when their scents mingled and her hair tickled against the skin of his chest; small, delicate hands removed the metal limb which kept him in constant pain and he would whisper things she always called lies but which made her guard drop just a little bit to hear.

Still. If he was completely honest with himself he had no idea who he was. There were two sets of memories, two names, two personalities warring in his head and he had to do something to find some middle ground. So he had gone looking for the person who was less likely to kill him, if only to find out where his grave was and do some pathetic impression of Greyfriars Bobby keeping his vigil until time finally came for him too. He hoped it didn't take too long.

He had finally found Steve. That hadn't taken anywhere near as long as he thought it would either, because to be frank, he'd walked from the back room into the bar, and Steve had been there on TV, in a much tighter fitting version of the uniform Bucky remembered from when Steve had 'joined the army'. The transformation had kept him young and as perfect as ever, and in all honesty it made Bucky's heart hurt a little bit to see. But he had a location now. Somewhere in the back of his mind floated a song from one of the shows he'd walked past in the dark anonymity of a Moscow night when he'd been scrounging a living sometime since he left the organisation. New York City was the centre of the universe. Well, if New York was, then that meant Brooklyn was too, and Steve was still a good Brooklyn boy, so Bucky figured he'd start there.

He had not been expecting Steve to have a floor to himself in one of the most grandiose skyscrapers in the world. But given his team mate, really that probably shouldn't have surprised him. Bucky wasn't sure how he felt about Steve living with a Stark. The guy was probably a chip off the old block, just like his father, but... well, it was Steve's decision in the end, and he probably felt some misguided loyalty to Howard. Bucky was still perfectly comfortable spitting on his name. He wasn't worth sparing the breath to curse.

What he had been expecting even less, however, was sitting on the couch catching up with Steve and feeling a blade press to his throat.

"Tell me what you are doing here, Soldat."

She had demanded, and at that point, honestly, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He thought something resigned about the universe screwing him over and tried to work out where to begin the twisted saga that had somehow morphed into this. Of course, anyone else with two identities would probably have been able to reconcile them in their own time and space and live a reasonable life. But no. The only two people who could help rebuild him lived together. And one of them still wanted to kill him. And now Steve was wearing his trauma face. Bucky just let his head fall - carefully - into his hands, and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Several weeks went by before Bucky even thought about knocking on the Doctor's door. He knew the others often dropped by some time in the afternoon, especially when they had a lot going on, and seemed to come out calmer. He'd asked Steve eventually and his old friend had explained it. Bruce wasn't really the most sociable member of the team. That wasn't to say he was unfriendly, he just didn't always seek out that kind of interaction of his own volition. He was always happy for his team to drop by though, always happy to listen and give them good advice... Bucky had managed to resist the urge to tease when Steve's cheeks flushed red. Well, he owed the doctor one for that at least. Even if he kinda missed what they'd had, it was long past now, and Steve was happier now than Bucky had ever really seen him before. Just because it was with a Stark he wasn't selfish enough to destroy that. 

When he raised it with Tasha, she seemed to have a lot of respect for Bruce too. It wasn't that that took Bucky by surprise, it was just that it was another reminder of how much she had changed from the girl he had known so many years ago. She was an adult now, and he had barely changed at all. It was like Steve, only... well, he had never been as perfect as Steve. Steve had been the blond, blue-eyed, all-American idealist going into the war. The kind of soldier who got shot in the first five minutes. Unless they were Captain America thanks to some fucked up scientific experimentation that Bucky still wasn't sure how to feel about. He, on the other hand, had gone into the army with the shine already taken off his soul. it was those with a little tarnish who tended to last a bit longer. And here they both were... but at least Steve had a clean conscience and knew who he was. Bucky wasn't sure he would ever have those things again.

If Tasha respected Bruce and he meant so much to Steve... well, the least Bucky could do really was stop by and say hi. He wanted to get to know this team he might be working with, glad that he'd managed to make peace with Clint. It hadn't been easy, and that had been the thing that had most pissed Tasha off. She didn't take kindly to people upsetting her pet sniper. But they were on speaking terms now, and Clint at least didn't feel like he was going to be replaced, so that removed that threat. Bruce was the only one on this team Steve now led that Bucky didn't know. And it was past time to rectify that.

He was surprised to find that with so much of his identity in fragments, one of the few things he had left to him was his Mum's chocolate chip cookie recipe. He talked to Jarvis (though really he still interrupted himself with questions about why he was talking to the ceiling) and managed to track down the ingredients. Sure, actually mixing and everything was harder these days. He was glad Tony was almost done with the replacement for his arm. It would be nice to have one that was functional and didn't rub his flesh raw. He was kind of glad to be away from the Siberian climate if he was honest. The tendency of extreme cold to make old wounds open up again had not been a fun one to deal with. He didn't have Steve's accelerated healing, though it would still take a lot to kill him, and when he'd received the serum he'd been pretty beat up anyway, which didn't help. But cookies were always a decent peace offering, and his Mom had made the best they'd ever tasted.

He put half of the batch aside for Steve, knowing the super soldier would devour them pretty damn quick provided he beat the demigod and the archer who seemed to eat somewhat like a hamster. The rest of them went in one of the little tins Tony had lying empty around the kitchen, and Bucky carried them down to Bruce's rooms. He took a minute to pluck up the courage to knock on the door. He'd seen the Hulk a few times, but never caught more than a glimpse of his mild mannered alter ego. Everyone liked cookies though, and Bruce didn't seem to mind other people dropping round... Bucky just hoped that extended to errant lost souls who had fragments of an identity at best.

Bruce answered the door, humming softly to himself and unsurprised by the interruption - though he was surprised by the figure that greeted him when he opened it. He saw pretty much everyone these days. If Natasha wasn't dropping in, then Clint was dropping through the ceiling, or Pepper was stopping by in what he suspected were strategically timed coffee breaks just for the conversation (and a few stolen kisses) more than anything else. Steve hadn't been by in a while, and Tony didn't tend to visit here that much since they spent a lot of time bouncing ideas off each other in the lab. And at dinner, and at breakfast, and occasionally over comms on those rare occasions when Hulk wasn't needed and Bruce was capable of scientific debate. 

"Hey..." Bucky started awkwardly, and swallowed, glancing at the plate of cookies he was holding which suddenly seemed incredibly stupid as an idea. I mean, what would this guy want with cookies? It made him seem like such a try-hard. Nobody else ever brought anything. But Bucky wasn't above a little bribery in this new world, and, truth be told, he never had been either. He just wanted to do what was necessary to fit in and make friends. Or at least have people not hate him. He'd kind of had more than enough of waking up dead for one man's lifetime.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I know a lot of people tend to stop by around this time and... well you've probably got someone there already and I can go away, but I... Natasha said you were good to talk to, and so did Steve, and Steve really... means a lot to me, so his opinion counts and... he said you're good at listening and you give good advice. And that without you he and Tony wouldn't have each other. And really I wasn't sure how I felt about them having each other when I woke up, since Tony's a Stark and all that, but it isn't any of my business telling that story because it's Steve's story and it's his private business but I... I could really use just a little peace and quiet, if that's okay."

Smiling a little, Bruce stepped back and ushered the man inside.

"Please, come in. Peace and quiet are my specialities, and I offer a special listening service for anyone who drops by. Thanks for the cookies. They smell great. I can't remember the last time I had homemade cookies. Can you teach me the recipe sometime?"

Bucky blinked a little and sat on the sofa, putting the plate on the table in front of him.

"Yeah, sure... it was my Mom's but she didn't have anyone else to pass it down to so... she passed it on to me. First thing I ever learned to cook, so... I'm glad they look good. You like baking?"

"I like cooking. I've never been particularly interested in baking. It's not... that ubiquitous throughout the world and most of the recipes I learned while travelling, so baking didn't come into it too much."

"Fair enough." Bucky nodded a few times, spinning the gesture out in a vain attempt to cover his trailing off into awkward silence. "You're... pretty different to how I was expecting... I mean, I've never really talked to you before, I just see you around now and then... I've seen some battle footage, but that doesn't really count. Nobody had anything but good things to say about you though, and for someone to have Natasha's respect? Well, there's no higher honour than that in my book."

Bruce smiled a little and nodded.

"Thank you. Can I offer you some tea?"

"I'd like that." Bucky didn't ask what kind. He wasn't really aware of the huge variety of kinds of tea there were, and so he didn't consider the myriad of options that might be presented to him.

Bruce could tell he was dealing with someone who didn't really know about tea, and probably wouldn't be all that interested in a lecture on the subject, so instead he refrained and picked out his oolong. It was a black tea, so that was fairly standard and hopefully wouldn't confuse his guest too much, but it was nice and exotic. Plus the idea of this warrior and the parallels of 'black dragon' tea pleased him, though he would never say so out loud.

"So... you have some things you need to get off your chest?"

"I have a lot of things actually. I'm really... I'm really lost. Probably even more lost than Steve was when he came to, and I don't know what to do or say about it. I guess... if you have the time to listen it might help me puzzle it out. It feels like everything I ever knew, everything I took for granted has been completely... shaken around like I'm in a snow globe just watching the pieces of my life settle around me, never knowing where they'll land. I'd say it had been turned on its head but... that already happened twice. More than twice. I've... seen a lot of things that no one should ever see. And I know I'm not the only one here who's had that happen to them. I know most of what Natasha's seen. I was part of a lot of it. I've seen war, and no matter what they told you, whatever history says, the second world war was carnage on the fronts. I'm sure the first world war was as bad, maybe worse, but... I've seen that. I've seen HYDRA and the experiments they did on people. I've seen Red Room and the interior of Communist Russia. I've been rescued from certain death, fallen into oblivion and forever been haunted by the best friend who keeps turning up like a bad penny in places he has no reason to be. Don't get me wrong, I'm always overjoyed to see him, but it takes me by surprise."

"I wake up and I come back to myself and I hear Steve's still alive so I come looking for him, thinking maybe he's the one person in the world who might forgive me for what Soldat did, who might believe me when I say I'm not that guy and help me remember who I used to be, piece together a personality that was good. Because he thinks I used to be a good guy and even if you think he's wrong, you never want to let Captain America down. I come back here and I find Steve shacked up with Howard Stark's son and that's more of a shock than I can explain easily and I have a knife at my throat with Natasha's hand on the other end, the little girl I trained, and held close and almost loved, or at least, the closest I could feel to love when everything I had was trapped in some chemical cage, or perhaps just frozen from the ice. I have all of these memories from Bucky and Soldat and I can't reconcile them at all, with each other, with who I think I am now, any of it. And I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know who I am or how to go about finding out. I've never been good at jigsaw puzzles, and now I am one. My mind, my memory, my soul... what's left of it. All that I'll ever have is what I can piece together. So if you think maybe you could help me, if you think maybe you have the time, then... I'd be grateful, Doc. I'd be very grateful."

Bruce watched him for a long time, listening to everything he had to say, this outpouring that was at once practised and so very raw. It was almost painful to hear. But he couldn't turn his back on it. As a friend, as a doctor, as a good person, he couldn't just turn away from this man who had unburdened his soul even though he had every reason not to trust him, every reason to simply want to run away. 

"Alright." he said softly, eventually, pushing a glass of tea across the table, and making sure the cookies were in the middle. "That's a lot to think about."

"Tell me about it. All of it is running around my head the whole time, I never get a moment's peace from it, I just can't..."

"Do you sleep at night?"

"Some. Mostly I just wake up screaming."

Bruce nodded grimly, savouring a sip of his tea before he replied.

"Yes, I can certainly... sympathise. Most people in the tower wake up screaming most nights. The only solution I have for it that really helps is one that you can't have because she'd probably frown on that. Other than talking. Talking helps a lot. And I can vouch for the fact that there isn't a single person in this tower who would resent you coming to them and saying you can't sleep and asking to talk. We help each other because nobody outside these walls can understand quite how fucked up we all are. Nobody outside of here can understand what we've been through, not really. Some of the other heroes, maybe... I know a couple of the mutants can, but for the most part? No. We're on our own. Which is why we stick together. And that includes you. You're still here, so for better or worse you've been accepted as a part of this family. Which means we'll take care of you. Which is a thing that it's worth factoring in to plans like dates, incidentally."

Bucky smiled a little and nodded. Bruce was glad to see that - he'd thought Barnes seemed like a guy with a good sense of humour. All of the stories Steve had told certainly made it sound that way, and although there was a lot that needed to be seriously discussed, Bruce knew humour often helped keep the tone of the conversation light enough that these things could be handled without getting too distressing. 

"I don't know about you, so how about you tell me? Start from the beginning, and we'll see what happens."

"The beginning of which life, Doc?"

"The beginning of the first one. And if you don't start soon I'll sing the Sound of Music at you."

"I may have spent the time post-war in a haze of drug fuelled Soviet brainwashing, but even I am aware of that damn film and I swear to god if you start singing it at me, I'm leaving and I'm taking the cookies with me."

Bruce grinned and pointedly took one while Bucky took a draught of tea and settled into his seat, considering how to tell his story. He could remember all of it, or most of it at least, it was just hazy and disconnected, confused between the two remnants of personality in his brain that he hoped to meld into a whole person of some kind again one day. For the purposes of clarity, it made most sense to tell it as if it had happened to someone else. 

"Back in the twenties a kid was born... eldest in a pretty big family by the end of it, but his ma died in childbirth with a younger kid, and the dad died in the first world war."

Bruce couldn't quite let that discrepancy go past.

"In the twenties?"

"He was pretty dead when he came back from the front. After his wife died he hanged himself. Kids went into an orphanage. Wasn't so bad for the most part, but this eldest kid had a friend there already. Tiny little kid, it looked like he'd snap in half if you breathed on him, let alone if you punched him or something, but this kid took bullying personally and used to stand up for the younger ones. Not a day went by when he didn't have a bloody nose or a black eye. Or both. This kid, Steve, he didn't really have to try hard to lose his baby teeth. Most of them got punched out for him. But this kid we're talking about? One day Steve stuck up for his little sister, and after that they became pretty good friends. Best friends even, brothers. Steve didn't have anyone else left in the world and with a family the size this kid was used to? One more really didn't make any difference. And Steve was the kind of kid you'd be proud to call your brother, whether or not it was actually true by blood."

"This kid grew up pretty street wise and smart. Went to school with his best friend, taught by the nuns who ran the orphanage. They were both Catholic, but... well, Steve was always a little more true to the faith. This kid... knew how to flirt with the girls, he was never lonely, and when war broke out he signed up proudly and the uniform was even more of a chick magnet, if that were possible. He knew his best friend wanted to fight too but his health wouldn't allow it, and Steve just kept trying and trying and trying and it was illegal but he kept going back. And try as he might, this kid couldn't help but admire him a little bit, at the same time he wanted to hit his head against the nearest wall. That fire, that determination, that was exactly why he'd hooked up with Steve in the first place. So... well, on his last night he arranged for a double date to the World's Fair but Steve decided to try his luck at enlisting again and... the kid never saw him again. Or at least not for a long time."

"He got sent to England for basic training and then on to the front, and don't get me wrong, it was brutal over there. Basic training was pretty damn basic, and the Nazis didn't take prisoners. Well, they did, and that was part of the problem. The thing is they always told us we'd be fighting Nazis, nobody ever mentioned anything but Nazis, and really, they were the least of our worries. The Nazi deep science division was called HYDRA, led by a man called Johann Schmidt who was completely fucking insane... Anyway, this kid... well, he got captured, along with a load of other people. And he got tortured. He was one of the most senior soldiers there, and they wanted information. They had something which let them play with his mind, manipulate his thoughts, and he was sure he was going crazy, and it never seemed to stop hurting and he couldn't eat or sleep, but he kept fighting them. He was pretty damn close to breaking when suddenly there were all these loud noises, gunshots and screams... and next thing he knew there was someone calling his name, helping him up, someone with Steve's voice, Steve's face, who looked nothing like Steve otherwise. He was tall and strong and broad, like his physical form had finally realised how disparate it was from his personality... like finally it fit together. He thought he had finally gone insane because there was no way this could be happening. But it was and this new Steve broke them out and started taking them back to the American camp. They had a lot of time to talk on the way home, and a lot to talk about."

"Turned out Steve had volunteered for an untested, highly dangerous scientific procedure which had made a monster the previous time the subject hadn't actually died. Well. The kid was pissed about that. One of the last things he'd said was 'don't do anything stupid till I get back' and... well, his best friend, his brother hadn't listened, could have died... or worse. But still. He was back, he was better, stronger, and he could finally be the person he always had been inside. The thing was that... well, it was a little bit of a reversal of their previous relationship. They did okay at settling into it because they had always had each others' backs no matter what, so it wasn't too much of a stretch to take orders that way around. Besides, Steve had always had a gift for commanding and tactics, shit like that... and they formed a team, a new unit made from the dregs of the old one, and they were one of the best fighting units in the whole damn war. And this kid and his best friend led them and they won fight after fight, destroyed base after base till HYDRA had only one place left to hide... but in the fight to get to that place they needed some information and they took the opportunity to capture the second most powerful man in HYDRA."

Bucky's monologue faded out as he looked up to meet Bruce's eyes. 

"That was the first time I died. And I died knowing I wouldn't be able to keep Steve safe any more. You'd think with that change that he wouldn't have anything to worry about any more, right? Well... you'd be wrong. One of the guys involved in the transformation... knew that sometimes Steve and me were closer than we should have been. And he threatened to get me thrown in jail if Steve didn't... do stuff for him. Steve was too naive and too protective of me to realise what he was getting into. And I couldn't stop it. If I'd tried, then we both would have been in jail. And jail was not a good place to be a homosexual. The worst part of all is I come back to find my best friend dating the son of the man who did that to him. My gut reaction isn't a good one, finding he's mixed up with a Stark? Believe me, there have been some times when I've wanted to just go strangle Tony... but I don't pose a threat to him, I promise. I heard a bit about what his dad was like from Steve, and from a few other places. And I've watched them and Steve seems happy. That's what matters to me, knowing Steve is happy. But coming back from the dead to find your best friend in a relationship like that throws you for a loop, Doc, and that's hard to come back from. I don't know how to begin wrapping my head around it."

"Well, that you recognise Steve is happy is definitely a plus..." Bruce began, draining the last of his tea, and taking a moment to process everything. It was a lot to take in, but he got the feeling that even just listening had helped to put Bucky's mind a little more at ease, given him some peace. "And I don't know what more to tell you. If his relationship with Tony bothers you, even if you know logically that it shouldn't, talk to him about it, see what he can tell you to help show you this is different. I know he's said a bit, but I'm sure there are a lot more things he could tell you. I mean, I helped them get together. They were bumbling around the whole time pining after each other and if I hadn't broken the tension I think Natasha was going to lock them in a room somewhere with lube and condoms and leave them there till they worked it out."

Bucky grinned a little.

"She never was a fan of the subtle approach."

"No. Quite."

Bruce smiled a little in return, and offered Bucky another cookie. The man took it and stared at it pensively for a while before he took a bite.

"I think... I think if you helped them get together, then... it has to be a good thing. You seem like a good man, Doc, and... well, I trust your judgement. I don't know Tony, and I don't think I really know Steve all that well anymore. I'd like to think I do but it's been a long time and he's been through a lot to change him. So. I'll trust that. And I'll find something to give them as a sign of it. I've never been all that good with words. Not when it comes to shit that actually matters. I never knew a soldier that was."

"Steve seems to struggle with that too sometimes."

Bucky laughed and crammed the rest of the cookie into his mouth, chewing it slowly.

Eventually he stood.

"Thanks for the tea, Doc, and for your time. It means a lot. You hardly know me and you still... well, you were still willing to sit here and listen."

"Anytime." Bruce replied, his brown eyes sincere "I mean that."

"Yeah, I know you do." there was the hint of that mischevious grin Bruce had seen in so many of Steve's sketches. "I'm gonna head down to the workshop, I have another fitting for my arm, but... maybe I could come back sometime?"

"You still have a whole life story to tell, and it's never better than when you have a raptly listening audience." Bruce smiled, and stood to show his guest out.

"It was good to finally meet you, Bruce."

"You too, Bucky. Come by again some time."

"Thanks. I might not have cookies next time."

"I also accept strudel."

With a bark of a laugh, and a flutter of metal fingers, the figure of the Winter Soldier sauntered down the hall, a hint of his old strength back in his posture. It was amazing what a cup of tea could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, the chapter got away from me, and I got sick while I was on my travels. On the plus side, the next oneshot is almost ready and I swear it's pure unadulterated fluff.


	18. Clint

New York certainly got cold in December. Bruce hadn't really remembered that, after all, in all his travels he had tended to cherry pick the better memories to hold onto. It was a symptom of the human condition, and one which meant he either chose not to dwell on what could be positively arctic winters, or he had forgotten that particular way in which the wind liked to howl between the buildings and cut through layers of clothing like a knife blade. He was actually starting to become very grateful for the allowance Tony insisted on giving him on top of what he got from SHIELD. And what Stark Industries officially paid him too. He hadn't looked too closely into the job title after the initial contract. He was certain the plan had been to recruit him to the SI R&D department, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Pepper might have added Tony-wrangler to his job description. He was pretty sure that nobody was exactly going to be eager to replace him on that count, or at least nobody who actually understood what they were getting themselves into. 

He rubbed his hands vigorously as he headed back into his room, gazing up at the ceiling with silent gratitude as Jarvis turned up the heating a few degrees. He would adjust it down again soon enough, as soon as Bruce wasn't feeling like he'd been dipped in water and shoved in a freezer or like his nose was about to fall off, but in the short term it made all the difference. It was nice going for walks, if only to remind himself that he was now free to do so (plus he was fairly anonymous as an Avenger given that he never actually looked anything other than big and green when he was actually fighting crime), but he had a feeling that he might want to curtail the frequency of them (or at least the duration) for the coming season. 

What would be perfect to warm him up was some tea. That sounded nice. It always was, and he would forever maintain that there was nothing as versatile, as varied and fitting for any occasion as tea. Tony occasionally tried to counter that argument by offering whisky as an alternative, but then Steve started getting that slightly pained look which meant he was uncomfortable with whatever Tony was saying and felt it was inappropriate, and the two of them disappeared somewhere to work out their differences. Bruce was pretty sure that was a good euphemism for it. 'Working out their differences'. Tony and Steve seemed to have a lot of differences to work out. 

Well, chai was always perfect for the wintry times, and the spices never failed to make him feel warmed from the inside out in more ways than one, but he wasn't sure which one to choose.

As he studied his not inconsiderable selection he heard a soft impact behind him, and without even turning around, he said

"Hello Clint-or-Tasha."

Every resident in the tower had become accustomed to the agents' habit of using the ventilation system as an alternative route, and while Clint spent more time in them than Tasha did, she was just as good at navigating them when she wished to. He suspected it was Clint though. Natasha had a habit of using the door when she came to visit. He had a sneaking suspicion that it might have been because of their rather unfortunate first encounter, and that if she ever did begin sneaking up on him again, it would either be a very good or a very bad sign, and he wasn't sure which.

"Hey. It's me."

Bruce turned around without a second's hesitation and pulled Clint into a tight hug. 

The younger man stared for a moment, then relaxed into it, burying his face against Bruce's shoulder and nuzzling close like he had when they were children. 

"Hey. Missed you."

"Missed you too." Bruce gave him a little squeeze and let him go, eyes lighting up a little when he saw the prize Clint carried. 

The archer awkwardly offered the box of donuts.

Bruce took them with a grin and put them on the table, turning back to his tea.

"Want to stay for a drink?"

"Yeah. I'd like that. Don't suppose you have any hot chocolate?"

"No, but I have some chocolate chai. You might like it, want to at least give it a go?"

Clint shrugged and perched in the armchair that was part of Bruce's furniture suite.

"Sure. I'll try anything once. Sometimes I have to try it a few more times too, though that's not always out of choice."

"Well... I'll make us mugs and we can cuddle up under a fleecy blanket and talk for a bit?"

"Or we could make a blanket fort?"

"Or we could make a blanket fort." Bruce conceded. They hadn't had much of a chance to be children, particularly not together, and the beginnings of the festive spirit had put him in a playful mood. "I think we should make a blanket fort."

Clint let out a triumphant noise and Bruce fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. Really it was just nice to see that after everything he knew Clint had been through, the man could still find such childlike joy in the simple things. There was a lot to be said for being childlike in life, but childish was a completely different matter. Bruce knew that Clint often managed the latter too, but Phil and Natasha were doing well at breaking him of those habits, and really they were only manifesting because he'd never exactly had much of a chance before to act his age. 

"Donuts first though, otherwise we'll end up getting frosting on all the blankets."

"Blanket fort, blanket fort~"

Clint seemed to be far too occupied in doing a squiggly little victory dance on his sofa to have been paying attention to that, so Bruce decided to take advantage of his distraction and have his first pick of the donuts. Clint had good taste in them, that was certainly true, and he hadn't really had a donut for a long time. They weren't something he'd missed, and Clint set a lot more store by food, particularly junk food, than pretty much anyone else other than Tony. And Pepper, but Bruce was pretty sure if he let that particular secret out he would end up regretting it in a variety of very... inconvenient ways. She certainly worked hard enough to have earned it. Besides, Clint had somehow managed to find the apple ones that were his favourite. 

Clint noticed that Bruce was already halfway through a donut and pounced on the box to make sure he got the best one next.

"I don't understand why you like the apple ones."

"They taste good."

"They taste like apples."

"Exactly."

"I prefer the artificial shit. It feels more real in a donut."

"And for some reason you have a bizzare phobia of anything resembling vitamins or minerals."

"Blame my upbringing, doc."

Although they had established their relationship again, found that despite their worst fears, they still remembered each other and the bond they had forged so many years ago, Clint was still very much in the habit of calling Bruce 'doc'. Since he had it from most of the rest of the team anyway, he had kind of come to accept that it was his new nickname and a mark of acceptance. After hearing some of the others that Tony had come up with on the fly when he was talking about people and groping for some new frame of reference, Bruce was pretty sure he'd gotten off fairly lightly.

He squeezed Clint's hand, wanting to move on from the depressing topic and keep the tone light.

"Alright, so how do you build a blanket fort?"

"You don't know?!"

Bruce smiled patiently, feeling a little warmth again at Clint's innocence in some very select aspects of life.

"No. I didn't exactly get much of a chance to build them on the run and before that I was always... well, studying."

"I'll teach you! Phil taught me, it's awesome, seriously. You know, I bet if we asked tony we could build a huge one in the living room and then we could all camp in it and watch movies and it would be awesome and..."

"Let's keep it smaller scale for now, okay Clint?"

"But that's boring!"

"If the two of us come up with a great design for a fort now, then we can use that when we build a big one with all the others and we'll both look really smart."

"Yeah, until Tony picks it all apart again. Fucking engineers."

Bruce snorted into his tea despite himself as he went to take a sip.

"Well, let's be grateful that Tony is as good an engineer as he is, okay? Because if he wasn't we wouldn't currently have a roof over our heads and I would probably be in a holding cell somewhere because there are very few places which are strong enough to hold Hulk and even fewer where we'd be welcome to come and go as we pleased."

"Yeah, Tony's pretty good about that... I mean, if you think about it, Steve had an apartment in Brooklyn where he didn't really know what was going on with anything, and Thor... wasn't really living on this planet at all but when he did he was visiting New Mexico, and Tasha and I... we're not really... welcome anywhere. Even in SHIELD most people give us a wide berth. Well, they give her a wide berth, and after they had distinctly failed to give me a wide berth a few times, she and Phil did something and now most people are a little wary of coming near me. Of course the junies are wary of coming near me because I have a history of shooting them with nerf guns but that is completely unrelated."

"And let me guess, they could never trace it back to you."

"Never once caught on camera." Clint grinned "And besides, who's gonna trust the word of a junie over the best sniper in the world and a member of the Avengers?"

"On that count? Anyone who's ever met you, Clint."

"Well yeah, but they all suck anyway." Clint grinned, and Bruce laughed despite himself. Clint was a real pleasure to be with sometimes, and he reminded Bruce what it was like to be able to find pleasure in life.

"You know..." Clint's voice was quieter now, that undercurrent of laughter which was almost ever-present faltering for a moment, "Not a day went by when I didn't think about you. When I didn't wonder... how you were doing or... or dream about what a success you'd become. Because I always knew you'd be a success, Bruce. Not a day went by when I didn't... wonder how you were doing, if you'd been adopted... I used to dream about us being adopted together, growing up calling you my brother instead of Barney. Growing up with you /being/ my brother instead of Barney. And, well... I just... I used to figure you'd be disappointed in me. I mean... I couldn't read and I... I was a nothing at the circus, just some brat and I... killed people, y'know? And some nights on the street were pretty cold and even though... even though I knew you'd want me to do whatever I needed to to survive... nice people don't... do that kind of thing. Good people don't do that kind of thing. And you've always been a good person, Bruce. So... I figured you'd be ashamed of me."

Bruce swallowed and took a sip of his tea, playing for time as he let all the things he wanted to say spiral round in his head until they were in some kind of coherent order.

"Clint... I... there is no one in the world I could be prouder to call my brother than you. And there... there never could be, okay? There never could be. Because I look at you... and I see the kid you used to be and the man you've become and everything you do, I see you saving the world and... you do that in so many little ways, every day, not just with your bow. You do it when you go out of your way to raise a smile for the secretary who's having a shitty day, or... when you spend a little time talking to some kids, encouraging them, telling them that... that no matter what, they can be a hero too, because you are, and you don't have any special powers other than being yourself. That if you can do it, they can do it. You might have done some bad things, you might have done some things you're not proud of, or had bad things done to you, but that doesn't make you a bad person. I mean... Hulk has done some terrible things. Which in turn means that I have too. But I... I'd like to think that I'm not a bad person. And neither are you. Neither is Tony much as he likes to pretend otherwise, or Tasha. Nobody here is a bad person. We may have bad pasts but... we are so much more than our pasts, Clint. You are so much more than your past. It's part of you, sure, but it doesn't define you. And you... you are amazing. And you are smart and funny and I cannot think of anyone I could possibly be prouder of in this whole damn world than you. So don't tell me that you're not special, or you're not smart, or that I should be disappointed in you. Because I'm proud of you. Even when you're not."

Clint gulped and focussed on his tea in an attempt to pretend that he hadn't teared up at that. Crying was weak and he wasn't weak. Bruce had said he was strong. He couldn't let him down again. But Bruce wouldn't just leave him be, no, it would never be that simple, he had to fucking lean in and pull Clint close and just... Clint just focussed on his breathing, on calming down for a few moments before he even returned the hug. It didn't make sense to him how so many people loved him in spite of all the things he had done. Phil did, Tasha did, Bruce did... sometimes he'd even be prepared to swear Tony did and Steve and Thor sure as hell didn't seem to mind. It didn't seem right to him that when he had done so much wrong, hurt so many people, done so many things that good kids didn't do, he should have all this good luck. He had an amazing boyfriend, a brother, a... sister? A Tasha, at least, a team... a family and the most amazing home in the whole damn world. He got to make a living doing what he was good at and killing bad guys, making the world a better and safer place, being a hero, but that... that wasn't what he deserved. Not when he was such a bad person. 

"You are so good, Clint." Bruce murmured against his ear "You are so good, and so loved and I am so proud of you."

He was shaking now and he hated that. He hated that he couldn't control himself, he hated that he was shaking and it was stupid and it was dumb and he shouldn't be shaking and what the fuck was wrong with him but there were tears on his cheeks that he couldn't stop and Bruce was still holding him and he was being so damn sincere and Clint didn't know what to do. So he let go, let it all out on Bruce's shoulder. It wasn't the first time he had cried on Bruce, not by a long shot, but it was different now.

"You're a good person." He managed to get out, though his voice cracked, "You're a good person. You're smart and you're a doctor and you heal people and I just kill people and I killed a lot of people and most of them were innocent and I don't know how I can ever forgive myself. I'm not a hero. I'm just some... some guy with blood on his hands staining the skin so deep it's never gonna go away."

"You and Tasha both have blood on your hands. She's not a bad person."

"She's not a good person either."

"I have blood on my hands. Tony has blood on his hands, hell, he has nightmares about the people he /didn't/ kill with his own hands let alone the ones he did. Steve, Captain America, the paragon of virtue, /he/ has blood on his hands too, he was a soldier, is a soldier and he went to war, Clint. Coulson has blood on his hands, so does Thor, the blood of creatures we can't even imagine, but they are worth just as much as human life. It's counterintuitive, it runs against everything you're ever taught, but Clint, killing people does not make you a bad person."

"Yeah, but I... I intend to do it. That makes it different."

"You follow orders and by following those orders you make the world a better place. You save lives. I wonder how many lives you've saved by taking the ones you have, Clint. Have you ever thought of it in those terms?"

The archer shrugged and looked down, trying to pretend he wasn't sniffing. 

"Well yeah sure I've tried to. It's simple math, right? But I never was any good at math."

"I am good at math. It's my field. Maybe not as much as Tony's but it's my playground in a different way. and I am telling you that... with the work you've done with the Avengers? The number of lives you've saved has to be in quadruple figures by now easily. And you're not always shooting people, you're not always shooting aliens for that matter. That's not 'always killing people'. That's you being a hero and reading situations and getting people out of places they shouldn't be, that's you putting your life on the line again and again for people who you don't know, and you don't look at them and judge whether they're bad or good, you judge them in relation to the immediate situation and you get them out. And that impartial assessment of situations, that judgement, saves lives at least once a week, Clint. And I don't know how many people you've killed over the years and I'm not going to ask. But I'm pretty sure that if you take all the lives that you saved indirectly by putting those arrows or those bullets wherever they needed to be, and all the lives you've saved working with the Avengers, you've more than balanced your books."

Bruce sat back a little and looked the younger man in the eye.

"You know, it's interesting. A lot of people these days perceive angels as being airy fairy beings who just do good and are kinda inconsequential and pretty boring really. But if you look at where they came from? A lot of angels were warriors, Clint. There's a lot of blood staining the hands of good people, or those who are held up as heroes and role models, in history, in religion... and sometimes it's just people doing what needs to be done. Sometimes that's enough to make a hero and sometimes that involves taking life. So killing people? Doesn't make you bad. At least two of the archangels were warriors, if you believe in that sort of thing. I don't, I don't think you do either, but maybe it'll bring you a little comfort. You are not alone in what you do. You are not alone in what you have done. And you are not a worse person because of it. You are not less than. You are just... Clint. And that's enough for all of us. That's more than enough. We are all so proud of you. And you... you need to remember that, because if you don't I think Tasha will probably find a creative way to beat it into you."

"She's already used a lot of creative ways on me."

"Somehow I doubt she'll struggle to find another one."

"Maybe you're right." Clint admitted softly after a moment's consideration. "Maybe... I don't know."

"No, but we can probably work on the assumption that I'm right since I'm the only person in this building to ever outsmart Tony Stark. Other than emotionally because honestly that's not that so hard. And the only person to have given relationship advice to everyone in the tower and a couple of people who live elsewhere. By which I mean Jane and Darcy. And yes that does include Tasha too."

"You... gave Tasha... relationship advice?" Clint was staring, Bruce was wondering how it was possible that Clint's jaw seemed to be reaching his chest. "WHAT THE HELL?! Tell me more! Oh my god!"

"Uh... no? I'm not talking about it."

"C'mon doc there's no confidentiality clause here."

"No, but there is just general decency? I mean... people come here and talk to me in private trusting that I'm going to keep their secrets and not blab about them. I wouldn't tell anyone what you've told me. I wouldn't say anything to anyone that had been told to me in confidence, and I count this as confidence. And Tasha would hurt me. You're her best friend, why don't you just talk to her about it openly?"

"Well I just... she's never really come across as a real... relationship-y person. She can act. She can act normal better than most people are actually capable of being normal. And... I don't know. I just... wow. It took me by surprise that's all."

"...Clint, how about we just... finish our tea and get on with building that blanket fort?"

"...That sounds good. Blanket forts make everything better."

"Even confusion?"

"They don't always make it better but they always make it seem less bad and sometimes they even make you forget that you were confused in the first place because there are other and more important things to think about that the fact that you're confused. If you don't understand it, maybe it'll make sense in time and it's best to let your subconscious mind take care of it while you actually focus on... well, structural integrity so that your blanket fort doesn't actually collapse and hit you in the head. Or that's what Phil said."

Bruce laughed and nodded, reaching for another donut, toasting Clint with it.

"You know, in some ways, Clint, you actually have a pretty good view of the world. That's a simple way to live. And often simplicity is underrated."

"People tell me I act like a kid." he shrugged "they take the piss and tell me I'm an idiot, but... Phil has never minded and so I don't... see that it matters?"

"There's a difference between childlike and childish. I think being childlike is something that we should all try more often. Pleasure in simple things. C'mon. I have lots of pillows. And blankets. And quilts. How big an edifice do you think we can make this? Because I think if we try hard..."

Clint was already on his feet, a donut wedged more than halfway into his mouth, making him look like an enthusiastic and slightly overfed chipmunk as he began gathering everything up and putting it into a pile. After a moment's consideration, Bruce decided that he might better serve the cause by moving some of the more breakable things out of reach of flicking blankets and pillows being... rapidly adjusted. That was a nicer way to think of it than being thrown across the room.

"What we need to do is be sure that the ceiling is high enough to actually sit up in, but the best way into a blanket fort is crawling, always has been, so we need tunnels. Pillows and cushions for those definitely and maybe for the walls, you have a lot... hey I wonder if Hulk likes blanket forts..."

"I think you'd struggle to find enough materials to make one with a high enough ceiling."

"Bruce. We live in Stark Tower. With Tony Stark. The richest man in the world. I'm pretty fucking sure we could make Hulk a blanket fort."

"Can we make that our next project instead of this one?"

"Sure, but you're boring."

"You accuse me of that on a regular basis and I would like to point out that I feel your opinion might have been skewed by the company you keep because I'm pretty sure that nobody else would qualify an officially recognised genius who occasionally doubles or so in size, turns green and smashes things as someone who was intrinsically boring."

"Using big words does not make you more interesting."

"I will bear that in mind." Bruce promised solemnly, brown eyes dancing, and laughed as he was hit squarely in the face by a pillow thrown with pinpoint accuracy.

The two brothers laughed and joked together as the built their fort, and though it was time for dinner before they'd even finished it and they rushed their meal to get back to the construction of it all, it was a welcome break for both of them. Clint was right, there was more to life than all the little complications that seemed to take over, and... well, whichever way you looked at it, Bruce was pretty sure the victory caw Clint had let out upon completion of their masterpiece made the whole thing worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nano and schoolwork ate my life, sorry for the delay, the Christmas chapter of this is planned to be up soon!


	19. Thor

Bruce was quite fond of the first month of the year. Most people he knew weren't keen on January particularly, and it was true that it was cold and miserable, but the advantage to that was that it was also quiet. And sometimes there were scientific conferences in the warm places of the world. He hadn't been invited to any of those lately, but the tide seemed to be turning on that front and there was a chance that maybe he was regaining some of the scientific credibility he seemed to have lost. Sometimes he had a little laugh to himself at the number of scientists in the superhero community, but the correlation was certainly there because of human stupidity, albeit in some cases deliberate stupidity. Self experimentation had moved science forward in lots of important ways, it was true, but there were some things he drew the line at. Fond as he was of Sue Storm and her brother, and Ben Grimm come to that, he had absolutely no respect for Reed Richards as a scientist or a man. All of the Avengers were very much of the opinion that leaving Reed had been the best thing Sue could have done, and though the transition hadn't been easy, it was nice to see one of their friends happy. 

Given how screwed up they were as a community, it was verging on the miraculous how many of them had managed to end up in healthy relationships. Sue was now, of course, with Matt Murdock, Johnny and his girlfriend, Ben and Alicia, Jessica Jones and Luke Cage... He was pretty sure Carol Danvers and Jess Drew had to count as healthy given that the meaning of the word had to allow for things like brainwashed ex-HYDRA agents. Phil and Clint, that was a healthy relationship, and Thor and Jane. He sort of hoped that he and Pepper counted too, and Steve and Tony. They were... as healthy as it was possible to be with a metric fuckton of mental health issues.

He looked up from his steaming glass of tea as there was a rather loud knock on his door. That could only mean one visitor, one he hadn't talked to properly in a good long while. He smiled to himself as he set the drink down on the table and went to answer the door. He was sure that being a Norse god did not automatically make one the devil, but there was something about Thor appearing just as Bruce's mind turned to him which amused him on some level. 

"Greetings Doctor Banner..."

"Good afternoon Thor, please come in..."

"I hope I am not disturbing you."

"No, not at all. You know you're always welcome."

"Might I be permitted to imbibe a little with you? You have such a wondrous selection of different flavours it is quite amazing."

"You're more than welcome."

"This smells deliciously fruity. Quite like mulled wine."

"It's cranberry and blood orange."

"Do these fruits require some form of sacrifice?"

"No, it's just that their pulp is a deep red I think. But some things have weird names. I'm quite sure nobody died in the production of this tea."

"I am relieved to hear it. The lady Jane would never forgive me."

Bruce smiled to think of Jane. They were in much more regular contact by email now, and he honestly did find her research fascinating. Superficially it was easy to dismiss Thor and Jane's relationship as being purely physical, but most people overlooked the fact that Thor had a brain because they deemed how he spoke old fashioned. It was one of those depressing traits of humanity that they tended to reject those who spoke differently. Bruce found that friendship should be taken wherever it was offered and privately was very much of the school of thought that the world would be a better place if people as a whole started looking deeper than the surface. Thor had a very keen mind. He approached concepts differently or with a different vocabulary to what they were used to, but he wasn't some boneheaded warrior. Being a prince took all kinds of diplomatic skill, even in a warlike culture, and the ease with which he understood the relation between Asgardian magic and Midgardian science was quite astonishing. He had come back to a society who lacked the degree of understanding he took for granted to the extent that it had become myth and legend, the fireside stories told to children, but speaking a language they had moved past long ago. It was easy, then, to reach a breakdown in communication - the seeming mismatch was hard to comprehend.

Thor took a sip of the tea, and set the glass down with surprising delicacy for a man of his strength.

"In fact, Doctor, it is the Lady Jane whom I wished to speak to you about..."

"Is she alright?"

"Oh yes, I believe she is well, it is just that... well... last time I came to visit you, you were kind enough to advise me about Midgardian courtship rituals. She and I have spoken about it at great length and, to my honour, she has agreed to become my consort."

"That's fantastic news. I'm so happy for you both." 

Bruce sipped his own drink, letting the flavours linger on his tongue and utterly sincere in his congratulation. He could think of no two people so happy together as Thor and Jane were. On so many levels it shouldn't work and yet they seemed to defy all kinds of sense and fit together against all expectation.

Thor's smile was shy, there was no other possible way to describe it.

"We shall cement it with both a mortal ceremony here, and one on Asgard. But I was wondering whether you might be willing to take on the role of... I believe it is best man? We will be keeping it fairly low key, just friends and... family, at both. Of course all of you will be invited to my father's hall for the Asgardian ceremony too. My mother in particular has long desired to meet you all, the deeds of the Avengers have echoed through the nine realms even to Asgard, and there are many warriors there who desire to meet their kin. Particularly my dear friends the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three who had a brief journey to this mortal plane."

Bruce swallowed again, staring at Thor. He knew that the offer was completely serious - Thor wasn't exactly gifted when it came to falsehoods, but he was not duplicitous by nature. Unless cards were involved when he could become pretty ruthless. It was still something he had never expected. It was no secret that if Clint and Phil ever had any kind of official ceremony, Natasha would be Clint's best man, and that was just as it should be (Steve would probably be Coulson's). Clint was the best family he had though, and Tony and Steve would... be a long time in doing it, if they ever moved into a more formal arrangement. Marriage mattered to Steve, but Tony's views of it were less than complimentary and for the moment Steve had stopped pushing the issue.

"Are you... serious?"

"I am. I would have dearly loved my brother Loki to have taken on the role, but at the moment it seems impossible, particularly for the Midgardian ceremony."

"Yeah, I can see that being... awkward."

"I wish for Agent Barton to attend, of course, and that would complicate matters. I love them both and I understand that he has done wrong but Loki is my brother and... even now I would forgive him."

"I don't think there is anything I wouldn't forgive Clint for, so I understand. It's hard. Do you ever see him?"

"He is in prison on Asgard. Originally I believe his conditions were much harsher, but my mother interceded, and since then father has been more lenient. My mother was saying that she had spoken to him mind to mind... Loki always did share her magic, it was... shameful, when we were younger. Magic was a woman's working and it did not endear him to our peers. She said he had been tortured. Truly then it becomes hard for me to know what to do, what to think. I do not condone his actions here, but I would still forgive him for them, and if he had been manipulated, if his thoughts were not his own, his mind poisoned, then... well, surely there would be no other course?"

Bruce hesitated then. From what he had seen of the footage surrounding the Tesseract's theft, there may well have been some basis for what Thor's mother claimed, but it brought up a whole raft of emotions he struggled to process. He did not like to blame people, did not believe in revenge, but forgiveness for Loki would still not come so easily. He could set aside his own reluctance, small though it was, and consider it from a more objective view.

"He is your brother and you love him."

"Aye. No matter what. No matter how many times he spurns me or denies that title, I know him to be my brother. And when my mother told me that, I was reminded of the meetings I had with him here, in the Chitauri war. HIs eyes were... different. Where before they had been warm emerald they were cold as the ice of the world on which he was born. I would have sworn that the one I was fighting was not my brother had he not worn his form and spoken in his tones. There are those who can shapeshift, indeed Loki is one of them, but there were times... times when I saw flashes of him in there."

"I can't imagine what it must have been like for you. I can't, but I do know that the only person who can help you resolve these things is Loki himself. If he is in prison in Asgard, try to get to him, try to talk to him."

"He will not talk to me."

"You don't know that for sure. Maybe he thinks you've finally given up on him, finally abandoned him. I know Clint... Clint would have assumed that so easily. And it isn't... easy, but it's true."

"...We did not part on good terms."

"Do you mean before or after the battle of New York? Because I can see either being relevant to that statement."

"Before. He... I do not believe he meant harm. He came at it from a... twisted view, but I myself know that I played a part in that twisting. I could have undone everything which has happened to him since, and it weighs heavy on me at times."

"He's in prison now. He has nowhere else to go. If you keep going back, he will eventually have no choice but to talk to you."

"Is that truly fair? It feels like it might be... akin to interrogation, not to give him a choice."

Bruce shrugged, his eyes crinkling slightly at the thought.

"Surely it has to be better than other things which could be happening? You want to know why, you want an explanation of what happened to your brother, what was going through his mind and you want a chance to make amends, unless I'm much mistaken. From what you've said though, Loki is hurting. And I can't say I blame him, even if I don't know the story. What you've told me lets me know that there is reason enough for him to be hurting. People aren't always their most rational when they feel like that. And I don't know how rational he's even capable of being anymore. I just... if our positions were reversed? If that was Clint? I would be visiting him. I would want him to know that he wasn't alone no matter what, that I hadn't abandoned him because he is my brother. Because he deserves not to be alone when he's spent so much of his life feeling that he is."

Thor stood then, the movement abrupt and Bruce could not help but lean back. He was large enough that it was overwhelming for a moment. 

"You are right, Doctor. But you will be my best man?"

"I will. Are you going to Asgard?"

"Aye. I wish to speak to my mother and my brother both. My mother knew him better than any and I hope that perhaps if I talk to her first she might be able to enlighten me about his past and his present, to let me know what I did wrong so I can understand why he began to turn from me, from us all..."

Bruce hesitated, fighting with himself for a moment, and for once it was with himself that he wrestled rather than Hulk.

"Thor... if there is anything I can do for him, let me know. There probably isn't anything I can do, but... he is important to you, and that matters to me. And he deserves... he deserves to be looked after. I swore an oath that I would look after everyone, care for everyone without fear or favour, and that extends to him."

"I understand that after what happened to your brother it must be hard for you to offer, and so I am grateful, Doctor."

Bruce nodded, and Thor grinned at him, striding out purposefully, his cloak flowing behind him. The scientist wondered absently how long he would be gone this time. The passage of time seemed inconsistent between realms if what Thor said was anything to go by, but they couldn't easily contact him when he was away and if something happened... well, they would cope, like they always did. But if he and Jane were planning their... weddings, he supposed would be the right word for the ceremonies, then Jane would more than likely not take kindly to his absence, and he could not say he blamed her. He understood the need to resolve issues before embarking on such a change as that though, it was akin to entering another phase of life, and it only made sense to go into it with a clean conscience, the better to move on into the future.

He drained his glass and moved to wash them both up, silently wishing Thor luck. He certainly didn't wish either of them harm, even Loki. Even during the battle he had been aware of how crazy the man was, and the suggestion that he had been controlled as Clint had was one that seemed to make sense with what information he had, though he would not be so quick to absolve him of blame without proof. The world had given him a second chance, the world had given Clint a second chance, and if it turned out Loki deserved one too, then Bruce would offer it freely and easily. He had no right to do anything less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise this chapter is shorter than they have been lately, but I wanted to make sure you got an update this month (it was in my New Year's resolutions and everything!) and it seemed to naturally finish there. Forcing it to extend would have just made the writing poor quality.
> 
> This chapter brings in some of my own headcanon around Loki and what happened to him, which might be further explored later in the series (in a oneshot for example, I'm not sure yet). I like Loki, I recognise that what he did was bad and cannot be excused, but I think what happened behind it should be explored. If you don't agree, that's fine and you're well within your rights to skip the chapters - he won't be appearing much within the main continuity - but I do ask that you don't bash. 
> 
> All being well, next month you will have another chapter, and a Valentine's oneshot because I just can't let it pass.
> 
> Love to you all, thank you for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks - your support for this fic is incredibly heartwarming and means so much to me as an author.


	20. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is struggling to adjust to the new arrival in the tower, and the issues he throws up about her past.
> 
> Warnings for: discussion of child abuse, child sexual abuse, brainwashing, use of child soldiers/assassins (everything you'd expect from Natasha's backstory), no discussion is particularly graphic but may be triggering

Bruce was in the kitchen making himself some lunch when he heard a tread behind him and turned to see Natasha leaning against the wall next to the fridge, as if she had always been there. He knew that she must have chosen to draw attention to herself, otherwise he would never have known she was there at all. Plenty of people had met their deaths like that. He counted himself lucky for the moment not to be among them, and hoped he never gave her reason.

"Good afternoon Natasha, how are you?"

He was always polite to her - not more polite than he was to anyone else, but the basic level of respect with which he treated everyone still seemed to take her by surprise some of the time, though it never showed but for a flicker in her eye. She made him almost grateful for the years he had spent on the run, it gave him an ability to read her more than the rest of the team (with the exceptions of Clint and Coulson) and he hoped that that contributed to the strength of their relationship. He was absolutely certain that Natasha was someone with whom it was worth having a good relationship. It didn't make her less likely to handle him if it was necessary (in as much as he could be handled) but she was worth getting to know. That was something he wasn't willing to try to put words around, absolutely certain that it would be a foreign concept to her. 

"Perfectly fine, thank you Doctor. That soup smells delicious."

"Would you like to share it with me? There's plenty, and I have some french bread I was going to put with it."

She hesitated for a moment, considering it, not wanting to be too eager to accept but equally wanting an excuse to talk to him.

"...I'd like that, thank you. That's very kind of you. Perhaps we could eat down in your room?"

"Absolutely." 

He waited until the soup was warmed through properly and served it into two bowls, cutting up hunks of french bread and adding a little butter to his own.

She took hers from him with a nod and followed him as he led the way downstairs.

"Would you like some tea with it?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you."

"How about lemon and ginger? Good for the digestive system and keeping away colds. It'll help warm you up."

"That sounds perfect." 

She tucked her legs up beneath her, comfortable on his sofa and as at ease as she ever was, which wasn't saying much.

Bruce made the tea and set it steeping in silence. They had their privacy now, and it was up to her what she said and when. Eating was a nice enough prelude to conversation, and the soup was wonderfully flavoured, and no chore to concentrate on. He was pleasantly surprised by it, actually. It had been a while since he had done anything like it, and he had taken a long time over it, letting the onions sweat, softening all the other vegetables just right and letting the flavours combine. It might not have been the most appetising colour, but it was certainly a decent meal. The bread was crusty and warm, and the two together tasted fantastic. 

Even after they had finished, Natasha took a long while to simply focus on her tea, on the scent of it and the warmth between her palms, staring at the jewel-like glass as if she had never seen anything like it before. None of this was new, but the pretence gave her time enough to find the words she needed. She had never been good at asking for help, and although strictly speaking this didn't fall into that category, it was a little too close for comfort. 

"...Have you met... Barnes yet?"

He was surprised by her choice of name. He hadn't considered how difficult it must be for her to find something to refer to him by. His old title, the one she had always known him by was defunct now, and Bucky would be overfamiliar in a way Natasha had always found incredibly uncomfortable. James didn't fit the man, and that just left Barnes, an odd formality on her tongue.

"Yes, I have. He came to talk to me about a week ago."

She nodded slowly, considering the information, unsurprised by it. Bruce was sure she had already known.

"...Did he want to talk about me?"

"Among other things, yes, but we ran out of time before we got to that part of his life. I think he's planning to come back soon to tell me the rest of his story."

Another nod, processing this now. It was rare to see her thinking so obviously slowed down, wanting to be conscientious and avoid any potential misstep in such a sensitive arena.

"...I don't... want anything he says about me to change your opinion of me."

"It won't. What he says is about some... abstract concept I have never met and never will. You are separate from that. None of you are patients, you're all friends of mine, but nevertheless I view that kind of thing as confidential."

She swallowed, and Bruce's expression softened slightly.

"It... can't be easy..."

He didn't want it to sound like he thought she couldn't do it - he knew perfectly well how capable Natasha was, but this kind of situation would be hard for anybody to deal with and there was no nice way to say that which wouldn't risk offence.

"It isn't." She replied simply, eventually, "But then, very little is, and what I find easy is not the kind of thing that most other people find easy, Doctor. I have no memory of my parents, I have no idea who they were or why they gave me up. I remember the orphanage, just barely, and I remember the night it burned down. I remember the feeling of an over large hand in mine as I was led from the fire, and then I remember the program. Not all of it, certainly not all of the early days, but bits and pieces. I remember the cameraderie. We were all sisters, you see? And there were a lot of us. We gossiped after lights out and we shared advice and stories. We were merciless in training, because we had to be, but afterwards..." she shrugged, "They wanted to take our humanity from us, and they did, but that does not happen overnight, and the stages were so slow at first that we didn't realise what was happening. Our favourite joke was one that persisted no matter what happened though... and I suppose it wasn't all that funny. But we were the Black Widow program. That is where my name comes from, and I am not the only one in the world with the right to bear it, but I am one of the last. They, in their wisdom, decided they were going to have a male equivalent to the program, and I can see the value of it, though I am adamant that there are places a woman can go that a man cannot. The idea was sound, though we always knew we were superior, but the name, dear god, the name..."

She half laughed, and the sound almost made Bruce jump, so unexpected was it. Her eyes were alight, and it was strange to see such animation in the midst of these terrible stories.

"I can only assume that they decided to mix the names of two scary creatures, and as we were the Black Widow program, it was natural for our fraternal program to have an arachnid epithet also. So they called it the Wolf Spider program. I cannot imagine a creature less suited to the image they wished to create. They might as well have called it the golden retriever puppy program. Either way, it failed. We succeeded, for a given value of success at least. And Red Room... it was all I knew."

She glanced up, and there was no light in those blue eyes now, colder than the tundra ice.

"It was not a good place, looking back, I can see that, but children adapt easily. They learn what they are taught, absorb what is around them... and they made it into a game. That said, it was not as if we were unaware of the possible consequences - I suppose that Russian roulette is possibly more apt than I would like, but that makes it no less true. I killed my first man when I was ten." she shrugged dispassionately, "It was a practice kill, but it went well enough. They started sending me on missions when I was thirteen, as my body started to change and I could pass for innocent and enticing all at once. Some of the Politburo liked them young and they were not alone. It appealed to the Russian machismo of the time... deflowering young virgins, claiming them, teaching them..." she muttered something sharp, "It boosted their ego. But it was easy to exploit and we had no reason to suspect that it would not hold just as true in other nations. Still, we were children, and children look for inspiration. Role models make people work harder, and there was an assassin they held in highest regard. He was shrouded in mystery, but we all aspired to work with him. They called him the Winter Soldier. Zimoj Soldat. And he began to be involved in our training. He was just on the sidelines at first, and if he was impressed by someone he might step in and demonstrate better." She shrugged, it was a simple raising of one shoulder, but it was disturbingly young, strangely vulnerable, and Bruce felt his stomach turn.

"He liked me. And part of our training was to... practise our skills on the trainers. I had a relationship with him, and to be honest..." the laugh was barked harsh and short, "To be honest it is the best relationship I could have had at the time. Now? No. Now I know much better, and the man I knew is no longer there. But he showed me kindness nonetheless, and we shared secrets. We dealt in secrets, lived in a world built of them, run by them... and as much as I trusted anybody, I trusted him. I knew if it was to end by his hand, it would be quick, and he knew that same. That was the greatest faith either of us could have in another person. What he did was wrong, what was done to him was equally wrong, as is what was done to me but the past cannot be changed, and even if I could, I would not change it anyway."

He couldn't help but notice how long her lashes were when she glanced up this time, almost hesitantly, as if challenging him to argue, to tell her otherwise, that of course she had to hate him, to resent what had happened, to want to change it. Instead he offered a mute shrug, not wanting to break this spell of communication which had lifted her silence. He knew it did not quite compare, but the idea of coming to terms with what had happened to you, what had been done and how it had made you otherwise was one which was not foreign to him.

"And now I am different, I am grown and I know better, and so is he. It is as if our roles have reversed and I must now be the teacher, and there is a part of me that does not understand. I was taught to appear as if I played the game, Doctor, trained in every rule and how to break them but when Coulson asked me to play for real... I realised that all the knowledge in the world, all the mannerisms I had perfected... gave me no guidance for interaction, no idea how to join in for myself. Him being here feels like a threat to the life that I have built but I cannot turn away from the one good memory I have from those times, when he could so easily have turned from me."

Bruce hesitated then. She seemed to have come to a natural pause in her speech - the longest he had ever heard from her - but he was still a little unclear as to what she wanted from him: whether she wanted simply to talk and be heard, or whether she wanted his advice. Making the wrong choice could cause irreparable damage to their fragile relationship. The thought that she might have come to him for advice at all though was a flattering one. 

Seemingly sensing his confusion she flashed another one of those tiny smiles, and this time it was a little pained. She decided to take mercy on him - this was not an easy subject for anyone to discuss, and he knew the bare bones of it now, more than anyone bar Clint and Coulson. She had the strangest sense that she had made the right choice of the person to trust, and that at least was warm in her belly. 

"I want to help him." She said finally, eyes fixed on the floor now in an attempt to hide the vulnerability of that admission.

"I owe him so much from when I was younger. It might not seem like he did much at all for me, but... if you look at things relatively... I would not be who I am today without him. He gave me chances to be human long before I ever dreamed of leaving Red Room. He made me start questioning. He showed me a humanity I was not aware existed. This man, this soldier, this epitome of everything they desired from us screamed out at night in perfect English-" she paused "Well, American English, anyway; when I first spoke English I had a Brooklyn accent, and it was his fault - but I could tell noone lest he was executed for it. He was the first secret I kept, my first rebellion against the system. I want to help him adjust as I did, and I have experience with it that nobody can rival. I know what it is like to feel lost, to feel like a non-person, and I want to help him build an identity, even if it is a fragmented one, but... " the slightest shrug, "I do not know how to let go the man I knew when I see him every day. I have no right to hold him to those memories, those ideals, and it would probably do more harm than good, but I do not want to forget the good things that taught me to be human."

"You don't have to forget him," Bruce's voice was gentle, and he barely restrained himself from reaching out to touch her - Natasha did not always react as favourably as other people to contact, particularly when she was vulnerable like this, "You don't have to forget what he did for you, or be sad... you can be glad of it and remember, but you have to set it down all the same. You're right, you can't hold him to the standards of the man you knew, but that doesn't make the man you knew any less worth rememberance. It's sentimental, maybe, but it's human... and as you said, you learned to be human."

"Nobody would blame you for grieving your friend. It's a natural loss, and although you probably compartmentalise it in exactly the same way soldiers do, it doesn't minimise it or make it go away. It's still something you'll have to work through, and something nobody ever gave you the tools for before. There's nothing wrong with you for feeling like that. And to be honest it's one of the hardest positions to be in, one that very few people ever encounter. Sometimes people have to deal with loved ones with amnesia and sometimes they can't do it. It wouldn't be weak to run away from the situation."

"I owe him better than that." Her voice was harder now and he nodded amicably in an attempt to defuse her anger.

"Nobody has the right to make that demand of anyone else, to force them to stay and suffer. But if you are choosing to do it, then that is something laudable. That is something amazing. That is something worthy of being proud of. It will never be easy, and the man you end up with isn't going to be the man you knew, or the man Steve knew, but if he remembers you - and I know he does - then... well, then you can both remember and mourn together. I think, if you can face it, it might be good for you both."

She paused, tilting her head slightly to consider, then nodded, once, sharply.

"That makes sense. Thank you Doctor, it is... it is helpful to know that I am not... regressing. That I am not losing control."

"I have never seen you lose control, Natasha, and I hope I never will. But this isn't losing control even though it may feel like it. This is just being human."

This time her smile was tired, and her entire frame ached with weariness as she moved to her feet, determination in every line.

"If this is being human," she quipped dryly, "I'm not sure I like it..."

Bruce chuckled softly and toasted her with his empty glass.

"You're not the only one to feel that way, Agent Romanov."

She smiled again, that brief flash of approval which never failed to leave him feeling warm, and strode out of his rooms, confidence and poise returning to her form with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the thanks to flightinflame for helping me with this - Natasha is someone I am tentative about writing and being able to check in with someone whose interpretation I really respect made this so much easier. I hope you enjoy it! Two months out of twelve, I'm keeping up so far! And you got a oneshot this month too!
> 
> Feel free to guess who the next chapter will be in the comments, thank you for all your support. Shout out to all my regular commenters too - the feedback I get from you guys is one of the main reasons I'm still doing this. While there's still support for this fic I'll do my best to keep it going - please do let me know what you think, I endeavour to respond to all comments with respect and gratitude :) (seriously, you have no idea how happy they make me)


	21. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussion of child abuse, child sexual abuse and child soldiery, murder, violence, assassination, none of it particularly graphic, but all in reminiscences. It's Bucky again, talking about his second life, it was never going to be pleasant.

While they had hoped, for a while at least, that the new year might bring some peace in comparison to the old, it was becoming increasingly obvious that no such respite was likely to come soon, if ever. Every battle they fought, every villainous plot they quashed and incident they contained seemed to spark more still. In a rare moment of exasperated poetry, Clint had compared it to fighting the Herculean Hydra. Of course everyone had immediately turned on him for that when the very next call out they got was to Baron Zemo and something about an attempt to resurrect Red Skull. 

They had let Steve and Bucky take the lead on that one. It had been... well, more than a little personal for both of them, but it was the kind of personal Bucky could deal with, the personal from his old life when he had had strength enough to stand by principles before they had been ripped away from him. The decision to invite him to become a part of the team was proving to be a wise one. He had gelled well, and it was a lot easier to have two people who knew each other's strategies as well as Steve and Bucky did making calls in the heat of battle. Steve was good, but he couldn't keep his eyes on everything, and no matter how much attention Clint was paying, the more sets of eyes parsing variables and calculating odds and angles, the better their chances.

They had all been exhausted after that; apparently Hydra had been crossing the bounds from deep science into magic - not entirely surprising after their pursuit and discovery of the tesseract, but something that complicated the situation nonetheless. There had not been a single team member without an ashen complexion, and that included Coulson who was still forbidden from being out in the field. Medical had cleared him, but Clint and Natasha's forgiveness did not come that easily and Fury wasn't pushing it too hard. He wasn't prepared to risk his one good eye and his best friend again quite so soon, unless the need became desperate. Besides, the Avengers seemed to have it entirely under control, or enough of a semblance that it kept the WSC off his back.

When every single member of the team had done their fair share of demolishing an all you can eat pizza buffet, they headed home, most people crying off for showers and naps, secure in the knowledge that if they passed out they wouldn't risk missing dinner. Sometimes, Bruce thought idly, it amazed him quite how much food they could put away. Thor had the appetite, not only of a man his size with his metabolism, but of a god, Steve's metabolic rate and muscle tone meant that his calorific requirements were vast too. Clint just ate, a lot, of anything, anytime, anywhere - it was a habit of his childhood that was impossible to shake. Bucky was not entirely dissimilar to Steve in his enhancements, and Bruce was almost certain that at least three large pizzas had disappeared down that gullet. Natasha didn't often eat the way the others did, but when she did it was analogous to the way she consumed alcohol - seemingly bottomless. He himself had the excuse of hulking out. It was an exhausting process, and Hulk burned up energy very quickly. While his stores were practically endless while transformed, upon his return to human form, Bruce definitely felt the exertion. Tony seemed to have the ability of a college boy to put away food on the rare occasions when he actually remembered to eat, and Coulson was the only normal human being amongst them. Food was one of the few areas where Clint and Tasha did not count as the token 'normal' people on the team, in so far as any of them were normal in any way, shape or form.

Rather than taking a nap, safe in the knowledge that he would sleep well and deeply that night, Bruce settled down to meditate for half an hour, and then brewed a cup of tea. The knock on the door as the water came to the boil was soft, and rather surprising given the unmistakeable greyness of people's earlier complexions and the fact that Pepper would almost certainly be doing damage control. Nevertheless he did not hesitate to answer it. Sometimes encounters dragged up memories people would rather have left buried, particularly those with old foes like HYDRA. Sometimes people needed to talk through things after a battle in order to be able to sleep at all. He was used to that, and guilty of it himself to a not inconsiderable degree. He checked up on everyone with Jarvis at least three times before he could let himself pass out after a fight like that. He knew Steve was often the same after a nightmare too, and Natasha never really stopped patrolling the tower. Clint settled in 'nests' in the vents above the rooms of those he cared most about, and Tony would sometimes wake in a cold sweat and go through exactly the same routine that Bruce did. They may all have been broken, but they loved each other more than words could ever have expressed, and there was nothing that could change that, nothing to stand against it or deny it. Nothing.

Bucky was standing outside again, this time he was holding a box of donuts rather than a plate of cookies, but his expression was the same one of nervous hope. Bruce found himself idly wondering whether it was a defining characteristic of snipers that they could all do a wonderful puppy-like expression, or whether it was just that the two they had in residence in the tower were unique. The truth was that he was leaning towards the latter. He was absolutely certain that Natasha would say the same, but she would do so with the same almost-smile on her face that she always wore when talking about /her/ idiots.

"You know, there isn't an entrance fee... I don't charge for my time, I'm not that kind of doctor..." Bruce stood back with a slight smile to let Bucky in.

The man shrugged and nodded, ducking his head for a moment a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know... but you're a friend, right? A team mate, and friends... do things for other friends. It's like a quid pro quo. I mean... you don't have to listen to me either, to any of us, and you do, so..."

"I listen because I like to help people. I'm a doctor, it's what I do."

"Yeah... and I get that, I do... but I'm not.. so good at thanking people, and there's not much I could do that you have any need for. So the least I can do is bring you something. It's polite, kinda thing. And besides, I didn't want to make cookies again, I wanted to just... go for a walk, see if I could clear my head any, order my thoughts... and Jarvis let me know about this great little bakery not too far away, so I went to pick up a box. Didn't know what you liked, so I got a dozen. I hope that's cool. Any you don't like, shove my way, I'm always happy to eat. Ask Steve."

Bruce closed the door, wishing, not for the first time, that he had a little sign on it he could flip to engaged. He liked to keep his open door policy, but at times like this he almost felt it would be more appropriate to make sure they weren't disturbed. He supposed Jarvis could possibly manage that though, and hopefully handle any major crisis without his immediate assistance. He had a lot of faith in the AI, but it had never once let him down.

"I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong, I'm just... not used to people giving me things."

His smile was a little lame, and he sat, indicating for Bucky to join him.

"Would you like something to drink with that?"

"Honestly, yeah. But I doubt you have what I have in mind, and I shouldn't really be drinking it anyway."

"What would that be?"

"Vodka. I was always pretty fond of anything that took the pain away. There was a lot of pain. Physical, from training, from missions, injuries... from having a prosthetic that didn't fit right and metal burning with cold pressed to my skin, old scars opening up again... and mental. It was torture, what they did in that place. And I don't think anyone who ever survived it with anything approaching a clear mind would tell you otherwise. The thing is there are hardly any people who did survive it with clear minds, and Tasha sure as hell won't talk about it. It's weak to talk, it's vulnerable, it gives people ways of hurting you and she learned so long ago to keep up those walls. I don't even want to tear them down, and there are a few I could. But I owe it to her not to. She kept my walls intact, it's just basic respect to do the same."

He shrugged, looking down, staring fixedly at a spot on the coffee table.

"The thing is... she has some technique, some way of keeping it all inside without going crazy and I do not know how she does it. I don't. I just... I can't even begin to comprehend what she's been through, what she's seen... what she's done. My nightmares probably don't compare. But she has a way of locking it all up in a box and leaving it untouched. Her control is impeccable, unlike anyone's I've ever seen. Yours pales in comparison to hers, no offence. And she can do that. She has to do that, to survive, or at least, she tells herself she does. I... I can't. If I don't talk, I'll go crazy. Well, crazier. There are too many voices in my head, too many memories and ghosts and screams that won't silence echoing in my ears all the time. I don't know how she turns herself off so completely. It's eerie but it's how she was trained to be. I know that. I was part of that training. But I see it, I see it and I can't... it sickens me. Because I remember how she was before. And maybe this was... unescapable. Maybe she could never have become anything else, never have known anything else, but I remember her as a child and I do not know if I will ever be able to forgive myself for what I helped to do, what I helped to create... The stains on my soul go so much deeper than blood, doctor, and I don't even know where to start."

"Start from the beginning again?" Bruce suggested gently, "We left off where you died for the first time last week, so... how about this time we start with your new life?"

Bucky glanced up, and his eyes were dark, his voice sharp enough to cut.

"Because that makes far too much sense, Doc, and I've never been a very sensible man. But I'll try."

"It's good of you to try." Bruce reached out for a donut, taking a bite and allowing the silence to expand until Bucky felt the need to fill it.

"...I fell off a train. And I remember thinking I was going to die. I told you about that before. And after that... I just have... flashes of places, faces, snatches of shouting that I didn't understand at the time. Even though I speak Russian now I still couldn't tell you what they were saying. Maybe it's just that it's in some transitional part of my brain and since my mind knows I couldn't speak Russian when I heard those things it's stopping me understanding now. I know that's not how this kind of thing goes, I'm not a complete idiot, but... well, repression is a fucking weird thing and I'm a fucking confused mess of it, so y'know. It wouldn't be that surprising."

He took a sip of the tea and shrugged gazing back into the past now.

"And I woke up in the same body, staring out through the same eyes, but a completely different person was looking out through them. It wasn't like I was... It wasn't like I was sat as an observer while someone else piloted my body. I don't know whether that would have been better or worse than what happened. But I was a new man, with a new name and a new purpose. And a new arm. That was probably the thing that got me questioning the most. I may have been a perfectly programmed soldier, a weapon who followed orders to the letter, but even then I knew that I was human and that humans were not born with metal limbs. I don't remember what they said when I questioned it, but it was fairly... the Soviet Union was not a place where you asked questions. There was a climate of silence, of fear and acceptance and blindness. It was a suffocating place. That's why I'm not... I wasn't surprised when Natalya first confided in me that she wanted to get out. I knew that there was more to her than what they wanted, just like there was more to me. There were so many girls in that program, but she always stood out. She always excelled, head and shoulders above the rest, and she always had potential that they never could have reached. She has reached it here, though. She has grown, and there is a part of me which is so proud to see that, so relieved that the girl he loved has become everything he knew she could be..."

He glanced up again at Bruce.

"I understand that she is Natasha now, but she wasn't then. Then she was my little Natalya, and I... it's easier to keep a handle on the separation like that. I may not know who I am, I may be trying to piece together an identity from shattered fragments of two men who are superficially so different but when you dig down are more the same than anybody would care to accept, but I know who I don't want to go back to being. And I owe her better than going back to that too. She would not... take it well, and I refuse to be the reason she snaps and throws so much away when she has finally achieved it all. The Soldat she knew, the man she remembers... him I would have less of a problem with, he was honourable in his own unique way and within the constraints of the mould he had been grown in. But... the Soldier, the weapon they created, mindless, driven by bloodlust and a blank acceptance of orders that were given by those who were nominally superior. The man who took pleasure in messy killing as well as in a job well done... he is the one I refuse to go back to. And that is the worst nightmare that keeps me awake at night, the thought that beneath all of this their programming might still remain enough to turn me into a mindless drone. I would rather die than that, and honestly I think she would kill me rather than let it happen."

"...For what it's worth," Bruce spoke softly, a little hesitant to interrupt as he mused on how... tragic, for want of a better word, it was that the two of them should have such fears in common, "From what I've seen of you, I honestly don't think you are capable of going back to that. There is too much... warmth in you for that cold to creep back, and Natasha would have detected anything like residual programming. She doesn't want you to go back to Soldier either. She misses the man she knew, though she would never admit it, but she wouldn't... she respects you too much to wish that on you. She wouldn't lie about it, but you're right. If it did come to pass, we would all... accede to your wishes. We respect you too much to do otherwise."

"If it happens, don't let Steve know." The wry smile he flashed did not reach his eyes, "I honestly think it would break him to kill me again, and the world needs Captain America way more than it ever needed me. And no, I know he didn't kill me the first time either, but if you think he'll ever stop blaming himself for it then you don't know Steve as well as you think you do or as well as I think you ought to."

"Don't worry. We wouldn't let that happen."

"Strangely I find that incredibly reassuring. And I'm positive that that isn't the right response."

"We're not exactly dealing with a typical situation here. Don't try to judge yourself by what's normal. Just go with the best of a bad lot in the shitty place that we're in."

"Yeah, that works."

"So..." Bruce hesitated, "If it's not the wrong question... what was that life like?"

"Cold. In every possible sense. The weather was cold, always cold, it ate into my flesh. There were some missions where old wounds would open up, the edges peeled away from each other. It wasn't a good place to have a metal prosthetic biting into your flesh in more ways than one. Frost bite means that cold metal strips away flesh pretty easily, but then I'm sure you knew that. Emotionally cold too. Russia is supposed to be this passionate people, passionate country, full of patriotism and vodka and carousing and dancing... different cultures and peoples all mixing together. But that's not... that's not what it was for me. In those times, under that rule... everything was cold. It was like living in a black and white movie, everything in grey scale and drab. I can only make that comparison accurately now that I've seen colour films, but even so, it stands. Feelings weren't... things we were meant to have. They were meant to have been stripped by the programming, and that was harder for me than it was for people they caught early."

"The demands they made weren't... human. The girls trained and studied fourteen, sometimes sixteen hours a day. My schedule wasn't that different. And they were encouraged to prostitute themselves to superior officers. It was in exchange for... anything. For favours, for warmth sometimes, for missions or better grades where grades were everything. It was all about honing their skills, teaching them seduction. There was a list of things they had to master. I saw it a few times, and on none of those occasions did it fail to make me sick to my stomach. I don't... I don't want to dwell on that. And I'm not proud of what I did, but... in some meagre defence, in those circumstances, in that place, at that time, I did what I could to treat the girls well. I lied more than once, 'adapted' tasks, had them spend the night with me when they were injured so they might have a chance to heal rather than show any weakness to superiors who were worse than circling sharks waiting for a feeding frenzy. I'm not proud of what I did, but I'm not... I'm not so ashamed either. I'm ashamed enough that I could never tell Steve. I don't think... I don't think that's really the kind of thing Captain America's moral compass is designed to be able to cope with. And that's fair enough. I don't want to think of myself as an amoral guy, Doc, but I'm pretty sure that compared to Steve everyone is amoral to some degree."

Bruce nodded slowly, half reaching for his tea before changing his mind.

"...I don't think you're amoral either. You have a strong moral code, it's just that... you understand that values are not always compatible with situations and you have to make the best of a bad job. That's not... being amoral. That's just... a degree of realism that Steve has never really faced. I don't think he ever will face it, either. He believes too much. There is that old saying about having faith enough to move mountains, or being blinded by faith... and don't get me wrong, Steve has had more than a little taste of the harshness of reality. He's not blind to corruption, he doesn't believe the country is infallible, but he does believe in ideals and do his best to live them out. For people like that, their belief can honestly grease the wheels a little bit and affect their reality. But you're right. I think he would try to understand, he would sincerely try, but it's just not something that's compatible with his thinking. And that's no bad thing. The world needs idealists, just as much as it needs realists and the occasional fatalist. Without idealists we would never move forward at all, but it's the job of the others to keep them in check. I think that might be why you and Steve click so well."

"That and you can't help but follow him, even if it's just out of fascination to see what he's going to do next, I genuinely think it's impossible not to follow him. I started following him when he was some scrawny little kid with a big mouth who liked to pick fights with people three times his size, always in defence of someone else because he couldn't stand bullies. Seventy years later when we should both be grown and old, if not outright dead, I'm still following him to see what he'll do next. He's the light in my darkness and I'm the shadow of his fire. Fiery probably isn't the first word you'd think of for Steve, but you can't deny he burns bright. We're like two sides of the same coin and I honestly can't think of myself without him. Being part of that unit feels odd, and for so long I was missing... well, more than a limb. Feeling like I was missing a limb would have been pretty accurate as it goes. But no... I don't know if that helped me break through the programming, if it undermined me, made me doubt, but... all I know is that Natasha used to tell me I woke up screaming in English on those nights I couldn't sleep. And if that's true then... all I know is that I was dreaming of him. Nobody else in that program dreamed, at least, not after reprogramming. Nobody else in that program... had enough of themselves left. But I did, and I gave a part of what I had, of who I was to her. And together... we became something so much more than they had ever envisaged, and so far out of control that they would never be able to catch us."

"She did what I couldn't do, though. We were all of the system, even more than the others who were. We were its creations, not merely its members, but she... worked with it. She cooperated and trained and refined. I couldn't do that, not like she could. I don't know what stopped me, it would have been so easy to submit, but while I followed orders and did what I was told... I did the minimum to get by while she excelled. I always knew that she would excel. She was the best, you can see it in people sometimes, especially young people. There's a... a fire, a hunger, she had it where none of the other girls did, and I was drawn to her. I was like a moth around a flame, and I was never sure it would not end in my own destruction, but I also knew I didn't care. Why should I care? She is beautiful now, but then... even though she was too young, even though I shouldn't have done it... I have explained that already, and squared that enough with my past and with her. She was entrancing, bewitching... it was that allure which was part of her power to be the best. But with me... with her I never feared for my life. Some of the other trainers probably should have, like Vanko..."

"Vanko?" Bruce couldn't help but interrupt, "Ivan Vanko?"

Bucky shrugged and nodded, a lazy half smile on his lips. Bruce could see how the man had been charismatic, had found it so easy to find girls if not to keep them, and to have a little fun. It was nice to see flashes of that man within the shell, even if they were so much more weary than they would have been once. 

"Yes... Natasha told me about how you had a run in with him. Well, Tony more precisely, but it's something the whole team is aware of. Nobody questioned why she was able to break his programming so easily? She's good, certainly, probably second to Tony in this tower, but... well, his was the programming she grew up reading, hacking, writing, and so for her... with all of the skills she has acquired since, some of them almost certainly from her time at Stark Industries for all that I'm sure Tony would not have deliberately shared them with her, Ivan's was child's play. He was never... competent. The Soviet system was meant to be egalitarian, and celebrate great achievement, great merit, but it was so easy for mediocrities to thrive, to reach positions they never should have. His basic grounding in coding would have been enough for many, I'm sure, but Natalya always went above and beyond her lessons. Ivan was arrogant enough to assume he knew everything already, that his work could never be bettered nor beaten, and that... well, that is evidently inaccurate. And I'm glad to see the pervert proved wrong. There's a kind of satisfaction for me in her beating him, quite apart from the satisfaction she drew from it herself. Anyway."

Bucky hesitated in his explanation and reached for another donut, consuming it in silence and licking his fingers clean. He was in need of a short break, from the narrative he was struggling to share, and from talking so continuously.

"How Soldat died is a much more complicated question than how he lived. Natalya left, she grew up, graduated, went away, and then... well, then the program itself began to fall apart and fade. Soldat was put into storage, Hydra broke into the unit and stole him from it, but they didn't quite understand what they had, and after they revived him it was easy enough for him to get out again. The programming was starting to fade by then, and he was probably doubly afraid of people with German accents. Living out of the limelight still came naturally, so he found a little place in the back streets of a city, where there were enough people that he could blend in, wearing long sleeves to cover his arm always, playing at being a veteran. They let him have a room cheaply out of pity, and for months he hardly left it, nursing bottles of spirits and trying to come to terms with his memories. One day, nursing a vodka, the Avengers came on the television of the bar, and he saw his old enemy and his best friend. It blew away the cobwebs, and he knew it was a long shot, but what else could he do other than try? It was better than slowly pickling himself towards a death that would never come, and to be frank, Doctor, dying twice is enough for any man. I was still dead then, I don't think I really started to live again until I got here, until I saw Steve, and to be honest Tasha's knife at my throat was the final piece of the puzzle. I may not know who I am, but I know for damn sure that there is absolutely nowhere else I could be."

"And there's nowhere else you have to be. Welcome home."

Bucky glanced up at him again, and Bruce could see the fear in his eyes. There was a wariness in every line of his body, a tension which hadn't been there when they had been discussing his other life. He was scared to take the chance, to accept it when he was certain it could be snatched away again. For all that they had invited him to join the team, given him a home so willingly, for a man who was lost within himself as well as in the world, such a thing was something he didn't feel he could count on. 

"I mean it." Bruce confirmed quietly, "It's something you're going to have to accept sooner or later. Do you seriously think that Steve would be willing to let you go again? And... she's been disturbed by your return, it's true, but Tasha's adjusted, and she sure as hell doesn't want you to go either. None of us do. This is your home now. This... weird building with a sentient AI and a group of fucked up people others call superheroes. We're all just as lost as you are in different ways, but having an anchor will help. I'm honestly sorry that I can't say anything more useful, more concrete, but really... what you've told me? There's no magic words that can make any of it better, make any of it go away. It's always going to hurt. It'll scar over gradually, sure, and some days eventually you might even be able to forget it's there, but it's always going to be a part of you and this new person you want to become. These things..." he shrugged and tailed off lamely, "They never go away."

"I don't know if I want it to go away. I feel if I forgot, I would be losing way too much... way too much of irreplaceable worth. If you told me you had a magic pill that would take it all away, I wouldn't take it. Even if it had no side effects, I wouldn't take it. Quite apart from wanting to keep these parts of me once I've learned to manage them, I owe it to Tasha and Steve not to wipe away the men they knew, not to pretend it didn't happen and make both of them mourn me again. I've done quite enough damage on that score, even if nobody seems to be able to make death stick."

His smile was brittle again, but now it almost reached his eyes, was a little more human than it had been while he was talking.

"You might not know what to say, but to be honest, the fact that you were willing to listen to me talk all this out... it has helped. It's helped a lot. I've got things straighter in my head, and it's enabled me to lay some things down. Like you said, they won't go away, but... I'll take what I can get... and I have got a lot, comparatively I mean. I have... a second chance. Well, a third, technically, my third life. I'm pretty sure reincarnation doesn't work that way, and I'm equally sure Sergeant James Barnes wasn't shitty enough to deserve coming back as a Soviet mercenary, but I'll still take my rebirth and make something better of it. I think the main thing I need now is just time."

"It heals all wounds in the end."

"Yeah, but some of those are just by death, Doc, and I'm not so sure he's ever gonna come for me." His lips hitched up in a half smile, a shadow of the cocky American soldier Steve had known, "Either way. I'll take some time, while everyone else is too tired to kick up much of a fuss. Sit and think some... there's not much else to be done."

"I've... always found that candles can help. It's up to you what meaning you ascribe to them, but... whether or not you're religious, there's something very symbolic about them. You can... write things down and burn them. Sins, memories, worries, pressures... all of those things, it's a chance to... set them down. And I think that it might be the best way. None of my business, but if you want them... I have some spare."

Bucky got to his feet, but he glanced back, hesitating.

"...I can't... promise I'll use them. But thanks for the offer Doc. I'll try anything."

Bruce nodded, moving to fetch a little box of tapers and nightlight candles with some matches and incense.

"Here... take this. If you don't use it, give it back, it's fine, but just..." he shrugged, "If it helps?"

"Thanks." Bucky shifted, straightening his shoulders, for all the world like a soldier back on the parade ground, a little spirit coming back into him, "...You don't know what it means to me. There aren't... words. And so... thanks. I'll see you around."

"I'll be here when you need me."

Bruce confirmed, and felt his heart twist as Bucky offered a lazy salute and turned to leave again. It was the first time in his life he hadn't panicked at such a military gesture, quite the opposite. He felt as if he was part of something special, not necessarily something military, but just something... like a family. And he realised the power of what it was to feel at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is perhaps a little later than I would have liked, but it's still within the month and therefore totally counts. Thanks to fif for beta'ing, as usual. This is linked to chapter 16, and was fairly hard to write. Much as I love Bucky, and I truly honestly do, I think conversations like this are always hard to have and the content here is fairly difficult to face, but I hope I handled it well. I'm fairly proud of some parts of this anyway. I hope you enjoy it, feel free to guess who the next chapter will be! Thank you for all your support with this fic, I hope you continue to enjoy it as we go along this journey together :)


	22. Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little sweetness, after the angst, like the sunshine after the storm.

It was late afternoon, and the sun was casting long shadows across the floor of Bruce's living room as he settled onto his sofa and gazed out over the city. The kettle was whistling softly and, after a moment, he crossed over to it and poured the water into the pot, settling his tea to steep. This was a new blend, and he was quite excited to try it. Natasha had found it for him, and the box had appeared on the desk in his lab with a post-it attached a few days previously while his back had been turned. He took it for what it was, a thank you gift for all the time he had taken trying to help her adjust to Bucky's arrival, and in a way for helping Bucky too. It was hard for her to get her head around, but he got the feeling he had helped, even if it had just been saying the things that she needed to hear. That was a common feature he had found in all his years of counselling people - a lot of the time, they already had the answers they needed, but hearing them vocalised by someone else gave them the impetus to start doing something about it. 

It had been a quiet day, but his latest experiment seemed to be going quite well, and he had time to settle down with Sue Storm's latest paper to review and a nice glass of pear and vanilla tea before dinner.

Just as he was settling back with the file, there was a knock on the door. It took him somewhat by surprise, since usually his visitors came around two or so, but never as late as five. He blinked a few times, then decided against getting up when he was so comfortable. 

"Come in?"

Pepper smiled slightly as she stepped into the room hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.

His face lit up, and she blushed slightly. She never tired of the way he reacted to her. Tony had introduced her to the expression 'naked hope', and in his eyes she had seen it first hand many times. Bruce, however, lit up whenever she walked into the room. He smiled, those soft brown eyes shone brightly, and she felt her heart skip a beat. This was what it felt like to love and be loved and she was so relieved to have had the chance to feel it.

"Hello, beautiful..."

His voice was soft, and he shifted to his feet, walking over to kiss her softly, taking her hands.

"Hello..." she smiled, and squeezed his gently, "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

"No, not at all... would you like to share some tea with me?"

"I would love to, thank you."

She moved to take a seat on the sofa, and Bruce fetched an extra glass, sitting by her side and pouring the tea. It was a beautiful wine red colour, and they smiled as they exchanged a toast.

"Is this a flying visit, or are you staying a while?"

"I was hoping to have some dinner with you and maybe... stay the night?"

She was hopeful, glad that he wasn't being difficult about how much she had been working lately. There were several takeover bids that the company was managing, and the expansion project was continuing alongside. That had meant a lot of late nights at the office, business trips abroad, dinner engagements and endless schmoozing. Bruce wasn't exactly compatible with most of those - for one thing he needed to be in New York in case of Avengers business, and for another... he was perfectly capable of conducting himself at a formal event, but his reputation preceded him, and having The Hulk at a dinner party tended to dampen people's spirits and make Pepper's life harder, despite how much she loved to have him there. It had been a long time since they had had any more than a couple of hours together at most, and he was relieved to hear that she would be staying. It never failed to do both of them good.

"You would be more than welcome. I would... really like that." he nodded, and took a sip, licking his lips and smiling. The tea was sweet but crisp, and went rather well with the Spring evening.

Pepper nodded and squeezed his hand gently, cuddling a little closer. 

"So... how have you been recently? I'm sorry, I should have asked that more often, things were just getting on top of me... that isn't really an excuse, but I hope you can forgive me..."

He turned his head far enough to kiss her softly, and ran his fingers gently through her hair, working out a couple of loose tangles before they got any worse.

"It's alright, I know how busy you've been... I've been worried about you, I'm glad to have you here, I'll enjoy the chance to take care of you for a bit."

"I know you will... and thank you for that. I have always been able to trust you to do what's best for me, even when I am so worn out I can't see the wood for the trees enough to make those decisions. But still, you haven't answered my question."

Bruce nodded, and shifted a little to set his glass back on the table, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to find the words.

"... Things have been... difficult. I rather enjoy being people's confidante, dispensing advice, being a sounding board for people and trying to help them see their way out of their problems. There isn't really a shortage of issues in this tower and it... gives me a purpose. It makes me feel like part of a family again, I feel valued and respected and trusted... it's a nice feeling. But lately... Bucky's return threw up a lot of issues for Natasha, and she is not the easiest person to communicate with. She does not... want help, even when she needs it, and she does not know how to ask for it. Bucky is damaged badly, and who can blame him? I hope I've been able to help them both, but it has meant a lot of heavy conversation. If sharing in that burden lightens the load for them, then I am glad, but... it is still a struggle. I don't resent it, but I think it's been getting me down a bit more than I would like."

Pepper frowned a little and stroked his cheek, leaning in for a soft kiss of her own. 

"...I'm sorry. I should have been here for you."

"No, honestly... you have been doing what needed to be done. I would never have chosen to keep you here. And I didn't know how to explain that I needed to talk about these things, or appreciate quite how much they were affecting me until you gave me an opportunity to say."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone.

"I honestly believe you are already doing it. It will just take some time to process things properly, and that can't be rushed."

Pepper leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Still... you know you don't have to deal with this stuff alone? It's very sweet of you to take on that role of being the listening ear for people, honestly, it is, but... well, we're all here for you too. Especially me."

Bruce chuckled, sliding his hands gently down her back and pulling her close.

"I know. Clint's very good at dropping in on me too and generally keeping an eye. As a rule Natasha tends to monitor people. She has been going through so much lately that I think it's thrown her off and I don't really want to complicate anything..."

"You are far too selfless. You are a very good man, and somehow the world allowed you to forget that for a long time but now you've landed here with a group of people who will be very persistent in not letting you forget if only to conceal their own deep rooted self esteem issues."

"Do you have deep rooted self esteem issues?"

Pepper paused and considered the question, tilting her head a little.

"...No. Sometimes I get insecure, and sometimes I get tired, and sometimes I get sick of all the bullshit I have to deal with on a daily basis because there is absolutely nothing that has yet happened to convince me that men over fifty do not start losing their common sense and ability to see what's right in front of them along with their libido and fertility."

"Well to be fair some of them are losing their eyesight too."

Bruce's own eyes danced, and she laughed, a beautiful sound which he was pretty sure he would never be able to hear often enough.

"That's true... it's more... well, I don't want to generalise about men. I know some amazing men. I know you, I know Tony and Steve and Thor and Phil and Rhodey... but equally, the ones which I have to work with on an almost daily basis? Not so great. Sexist and not that subtle about it even when they think they are being, patronising, short sighted, risk averse.... and I don't have a problem with them being risk averse, honestly I don't. I think that sometimes Tony's business decisions were a little too risky. Admittedly most of them paid off because when it comes to that kind of thing he has the luck of the devil and the charisma to go with it, but I am trying for a more reasonable strategy. Things they would have signed off on for him without a moment's hesitation, I have to fight for tooth and nail because the fact that I am proposing it means it must be wrong. The minute we get expert testimony they'll agree, provided that the testifying expert is a man."

Bruce nodded and rested their foreheads together for a moment, still relishing this closeness he had missed, basking in every inch of her.

"...I know, baby, and I'm sorry that you have to deal with that. It isn't fair. You are an amazing CEO and some of the most competent people I know are women. Some of the best scientists I know are women. Some of SHIELD's top agents are women. And you are doing a great job. What beats me is how they find a way to argue with the independent figures which demonstrate that."

Her smile turned a little evil, and Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"They can't. You know I think the first board meeting after the end of the last tax year when all our figures had been reviewed and analysed by the FT and a couple of the other major papers was the one with the highest number of apologies for absence in the corporation's history because they didn't want to look me in the eye and admit that I had been right?"

"No, I didn't..." he smiled, and kissed her softly, "But it doesn't surprise me. Now... how about we order in tonight? We could get some nice Thai food, I have ice cream in the freezer, we could curl up under my wonderful snuggly warm blanket and watch a crappy movie together?"

She kissed him on the nose and smiled brightly.

"That sounds perfect. Wanna grab a shower together too?"

He grinned and gently brushed her ass.

"I'd love to, but if we place the food order, then shower, it'll be ready and warm and tasty right as we're done."

"See, you are a genius in so many ways."

"Oh, I know you'd have thought of that given the chance."

He laughed and she cuddled up close, giggling.

Jarvis brought up the menu of their favourite Thai place and the two of them made a couple of selections.

"What flavour ice cream did you say you had?"

"Cherry Garcia."

"Ooh... did you know I was coming?"

Bruce grinned at the way her eyes lit up.

"Well, no I didn't. But I figured you'd be by again eventually and that you would be more likely to stay if I had your favourite kind of ice cream. Also even though we're dating and everything, with how busy things have been I was kinda of working on the principle that the next time I might see you you could possibly be a bit depressed and that therefore having ice cream in stock was the best idea?"

Pepper frowned at him suspiciously.

"Does that mean you have other kinds of ice cream too?"

"I have Chunky Monkey for Clint and Darcy... and there's a special Haagen-Dasz one in there for Natasha."

"Do people usually come for ice cream?"

"No, people usually come for tea, but ice cream is a well known comfort food and besides, things are heating up on the whole so I was just planning ahead while it was cheaper in winter because nobody wants to eat ice cream when there's a foot of snow outside."

"You are a very practical man," she kissed him again, "And I love you. I honestly... never expected to fall for a guy like you. But I have, and I don't regret it for a second. You make me so happy."

"You make me happy too..." Bruce's voice was soft, and he gazed into her eyes, stroking back her hair for a moment and just taking her all in.

"After Betty I didn't think I'd be able to love anyone again, I didn't think anyone would let me near enough to love them again. I felt like a time bomb who couldn't get close to people for fear of hurting them... and then... a lot has changed in the last few years. I've got control of myself now, I stopped fighting Hulk and... from that, well... we came to an understanding. It's a symbiotic relationship now, not a destructive one, and I wouldn't change it for the world. I had a place again, even if it was off the grid, and then Natasha brought me in again and I realised I'd never be able to leave this world behind. But rather than ostracising me this team welcomed me without hesitation. I got my little brother back. I got the chance to meet Captain America and a real live demigod. I got the chance to meet Tony Stark and realised that we had a lot in common. Perhaps more than the media would ever have let us believe. And I got to meet you. I think joining this team is the best thing that ever happened to me."

Pepper smiled softly and kissed him, lingering in it before pulling back and arching her eyebrow teasingly.

"Not meeting me, then?"

"If I hadn't joined the team, I would never have met you, but you are not the only great thing to come out of joining the team. The greatest, yes, obviously, but not the only thing."

"Alright..." she kissed him again, mollified now, "I'll accept that answer."

"Good."

Bruce smiled and squeezed her hand gently, brushing his fingers over the pulse in her wrist and gazing at her, taking in how she was so beautifully perfectly alive and unafraid. For so long he had never dreamed any of this would be possible and now... even with all the darkness they had been struggling through, there was a light in it which he could always use to guide himself home.

Pepper tolerated the admiration for a few moments, then grinned, stealing a quick kiss which shocked him out of his reverie.

"So, shower?"

"Yes..." He mirrored her enthusiastic smile, following her to the bathroom and leaving a trail of clothes in his wake. There would be time enough for philosophising and analysing and worrying tomorrow. Tonight was a precious moment to be treasured.


	23. Steve

The Avengers callouts seemed to be happening less these days, and Bruce for one was relieved about that. It was nice to settle into a sort of routine. Of course, no two days were the same, and the threats were different week to week, but if they weren't too severe then they had managed to reach an agreement with the Fantastic Four and the X-men to cover the city at different points in the month. Ten days on, twenty off wasn't ideal, and sometimes they were called in for extra help, but it was better than always being on alert, and it meant that Bruce was finally getting some time to settle into his research.

That was something Tony never had a problem with, because his mind was always racing several hundred miles an hour, and he had mastered the ability to be thinking about several things simultaneously, in parallel with each other. When he was confronted with a research problem, Bruce preferred to concentrate on that, and it often meant that, when he knew he would be relatively uninterrupted, he wandered around in a kind of day dream, his mind's eye filled with equations and facts and figures, reaction schemes and the like, swirling their way into a solution. The moment they resolved themselves was one of his favourites, and it was worth every minute of the wait. Answers to questions like that had been the reason he had found science so engaging in the first place. Now he was in a position, with unlimited funding, and unlimited tech, to research all the things he had been so curious about for years, and it was the best present in the whole world. 

What made it even better was having somebody with a similar cailbre mind to talk about things with. Several somebodies, in fact. He could call Jemma Simmons over at SHIELD, or Sue Storm, Jane Foster, Henry McCoy, Hank Pym if it was really necessary... and Tony was just down the hall. All the Avengers had made a vow never to involve Reed Richards in anything ever, and Clint kept insisting the man made him break out in hives. There was no empirical evidence for that, but Bruce kept an open mind, certain that if anyone was irritating enough to cause spontaneous hives in others, it would be Reed Richards. 

The extra structural dimension to his time was also making his relationship with Pepper a little easier, since they could plan around things like dinner, and her meetings and business trips. She wasn't a natural scientist, but Bruce was always impressed by her acuity. She never seemed to struggle to grasp concepts, and although he'd always found them easier to explain than Tony had, years around a man whose first language was an almost impenetrable dialect of engineering had honed Pepper's ability to frame complicated concepts in layman's terms. She hadn't had to understand what Tony was working on, but it had been a way of getting through to him, and understanding his projects and the way he worked was a very good way of starting to understand Tony. Dating Bruce, all those years of investment had paid off. 

For his part, Bruce tried to get to grips with the intricacies of the board room. He read about the stock market, and did enough research on business that he probably could have sat an MBA exam were it not for the fact that he did not need any other degree titles, and it would have looked a little incongruous among the rest of his qualifications. Still. It livened up dinner conversation, and enabled them both to support each other much better. Being in a position where you understood what your significant other dedicated a large amount of their time to meant that you were better placed to sympathise, which tended to increase good will when pressure could often make it a scarce commodity. 

He was still making time for his afternoon tea breaks, and Natasha was a relatively frequent visitor these days, as was Bucky, and Pepper dropped by when she could. It gave him thinking time, and allowed him to keep the control it had taken so long to master. It also helped tie the team closer together. Bruce had always preferred to know about threats beforehand, so he could anticipate them and prepare for them properly. Potential threats to his team were no exception, whether it was just that someone was feeling a little insecure or something more complicated. He and Hulk were both fiercely protective of the people they had come to view as family.

Bucky seemed to be settling in quite well, and that was a relief. It wasn't entirely surprising after the formal invitation they had extended to him at Christmas, but it wasn't like the guy didn't have enough to deal with. Bruce was glad he had had the opportunity to help him work through it a little bit. It had been hard on Natasha too, but she had a support system in the form of Clint and Coulson where Bucky had come in with... more or less nothing but good intentions from certain other members of the team. Thinking of Steve, Bruce smiled a little again. Despite Tony's initial insecurities, the two of them seemed pretty close these days and that was a relief. Tony needed that security, and if Steve did anything to hurt him, it could only end messily. Neither Colonel Rhodes nor Pepper took kindly to that kind of thing.

He looked up at the knock on the door and afforded himself a little smile. Speak of the devil. Only Steve knocked like that - that thought gave him a little buzz of warmth in its own right, at the realisation that he knew his team, his family, well enough to be able to tell them apart by knock. 

"Come in?"

The door was opened tentatively, and that only made him smile more. Steve was always so desperate to be polite and avoid causing offence to anyone. There were still little behavioural traits which belonged to the man he had been before the serum, and Bruce was glad of the evidence that the original Steve Rogers was still there. Of course, you only needed to speak to him to be reminded that he was quite possibly the best man in the world, but it would be all too easy to class him as propaganda and dismiss him out of hand. 

"Hello Captain..."

"Hey... I... hope you don't mind my dropping by?"

"Not at all, it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I don't suppose you were... going to make some tea?"

"Would you like some?"

"Only if it's not an inconvenience."

"Fortunately I was about to put the kettle on, so that rather resolves that, doesn't it. Don't let it bother you, Steve. I don't mind making tea for people."

"I just don't want to be a bother."

"And you're not a bother, you're my friend, so that concern is pretty irrelevant."

He looked down, a little shame faced for a moment, before glancing back up again, blue eyes hopeful.

"Do you have any cookies?"

"I do," Bruce reached down for the tin he kept under the coffee table and smiled, "Clint was trying out a new recipe. They're chocolate chip and fudge."

"That sounds delicious."

"They are very good. Here..." he offered them over, and Steve took one, smiling gratefully before taking a bite. 

"Mmmm... they're delicious." His enthusiasm was slightly muffled, as was Bruce's agreement as he took a bite of his own. Clint really did make good cookies when he had a mind to. Between him and Steve and Bruce himself it was a miracle they hadn't all blown up like balloons, but crime fighting was hard work and accelerated metabolisms were a thing for everyone apart from Tony, who Bruce privately believed had confused his system into perpetually thinking it was that of a college frat boy and behaving accordingly. Engineering was physically demanding, to be sure, and Tony did often forget to eat, but he had kept pace with Clint on a few occasions, much to everyone's amazement. Nobody had yet to beat Thor, though Steve and Bucky had come close a few times. 

"I have a new tea I was going to try, would you like to give it a go?"

"Um... sure? What is it?" Steve looked a little hesitant, and Bruce couldn't blame him. 

"It's rooiboos with caramel."

"What's... rooi...uh....?"

"It's redbush tea, from Africa. It's good for you. Nice, too. But really, the tea just tastes of caramel. I thought it might go well with the cookies?"

"It sounds really nice, thank you..."

Bruce nodded and filled the kettle, setting the glasses out on the table. 

Steve picked his up and turned it over and over in his hands, admiring it. 

"These really are so beautiful... they're not... the kind of thing I'd expected you to have. But I'm glad you do. They're... a great symbol. To be honest I doubt there's a person on this team who wouldn't calm down at the sight of them."

"You flatter me, Captain."

"No, Bruce, I'm... I'm just being honest. You really... you mean a lot to all of us. You're an important part of the team. And we're all really grateful."

Bruce's expression softened, and he reached out to touch Steve's hand.

"I know. I know. Thank you Steve. That means a lot."

"I know what it's like... not to feel like you have a place. I think we've all gained that here."

Bruce nodded. 

"I think we have. So, how are you doing with everything? It seems to have calmed down, Bucky seems to have settled in alright..."

"Yeah, yeah he has..." Steve tailed off a little and Bruce glanced up.

"Are you... alright with how he's doing?"

"Yeah, I guess... I mean... it's amazing to have him back. So amazing. I thought he was dead and then... it turned out he wasn't and... honestly I don't know whether it would have been better if he had been dead because then he couldn't have been hurt like he was, but then I'm not sure if I'm selfish for thinking that way and... well..." Steve shrugged, "I... don't know if that makes me a bad person. For kind of wishing my best friend was dead. It doesn't mean I'm not glad he's here, so very glad... and that's... selfish too I guess. I'm kind of tying myself up in knots about the issue."

"I can understand that... but it isn't that you want him dead, it's just that you wish he hadn't suffered, and that's fair enough. What happened to Bucky was horrible. You love him a great deal, you've always been very close and he means a lot to you and... well, not wanting him to hurt is a perfectly legitimate thing to feel. Loving someone and being glad to have them back doesn't mean you're selfish either, even though him being alive means he got hurt. That wasn't your fault, by any stretch of the imagination."

"Thanks... sorry, I feel like I'm not making much sense..."

Bruce smiled and poured the tea, taking his time over it. He preferred glasses over porcelain cups for many reasons, but one of them was definitely the musical sound of pouring the tea. 

"You are making sense. You're just confused. That's okay Steve."

The blond looked up as Bruce pushed his glass across the table towards him. 

"Thank you... has he... spoken to you at all?"

"Yes, I've spoken to him a few times. Obviously I can't tell you what about. These may not be official sessions of any kind, but there's a confidentiality here I won't break."

"No, no, I wouldn't expect you to tell me, I just... is he okay? I... worry a lot. I know he isn't the same guy I lost, I get that, but... he's still Bucky. And I don't know much about what happened to Natasha, and I wouldn't expect to, and he's... not told me much about what happened to him either. I know you can't tell me, I just... want to know, if you can let me know in general terms at least... if he's... settling in okay?"

Bruce hesitated, taking a sip of his tea to consider his answer, every movement measured rather than hurried. He had time to think, he always had time these days, and years on the run had taught him that time to think was a luxury he loved to indulge in.

"...Yes. On balance, I would say he is settling in okay. He has a lot of things to work through, but you knew that already. And he's not the only one. You have a lot of things to work through, though I don't know that there's much I can do to help you with those. You're basically going through the grieving process again, with the complication of the person you thought was gone not being dead, and it's all very muddled, but I'm sure you'll get there. Natasha has... issues which I think time is the only thing to help, time and friendship. She doesn't have the emotional resources to cope with this kind of thing. Nobody does, but normal people at least have something in the form of their ability to feel, really feel. She can't tell whether what she's feeling is programmed or true, and what she can feel at all is a lot number than we're used to. Tony is a little insecure because he's scared you'll replace him."

Steve looked horrified at the thought, and Bruce held a hand up.

"I know you wouldn't, and I think he's starting to realise that too, but he didn't just grow up with stories of you, there were plenty about Bucky too and he knows how much Bucky meant to you. There are a lot of people we can blame for the fact that he instinctively expects to be kicked to the curb when something better comes along, but he hasn't just locked himself away in the workshop and point blank refused to interact with humanity, so I think he's getting better about dealing with these things."

"I'm sorry... I never meant to neglect Tony..."

"You haven't been, Steve. Far from it. Nobody would have held it against you if Bucky returning like that had meant that you had to put your relationship on the back burner for a little while, least of all Tony, but you didn't. You've kept an eye on him, you've noticed when he's been holing up in the workshop and spent hours down there just to be there, sketching him and the bots. You've been taking care of Bucky too, but you haven't let it damage things. Changing is not the same as damaging, and to be honest I think Tony's just quite relieved that you're not at quite so much of a loose end anymore. Not that you were before, you structured your time very well, but it's less of an onus on him to take care of you now."

"He didn't... have to do anything..."

"No, and I know that, but it's one of the things that people say about relationships a lot which I imagine has stuck with him. He's worried about neglecting people because he knows what neglect feels like, and because he's worried people will leave."

Steve sat up straighter, setting his shoulders strongly.

"Never."

"None of us ever would. He is getting that these days. And he was the one who had the idea to invite Bucky to join the team. He's about as secure in the relationship as you could hope for."

Steve nodded and relaxed, taking another sip of tea, his hand straying hesitantly towards the cookies again. Bruce grinned and pushed the tin closer in quiet encouragement.

"I'm proud of him. I'm proud of both of them. I guess... especially... Bucky... he... he always needed me, before. Well, not always. Not before I got big so much, then I needed him. But he needed me too for different things, and then the war started, and then I got big, and well... things changed and now... I've been where he is. Not exactly, obviously, I didn't have the brain washing to contend with, but not far from it. And I was so relieved when he came back, because I knew it would be a lot of work but I knew I'd be able to help him and I don't know... I don't know what will happen when he doesn't need me anymore. I don't want to lose him again."

"You won't." Bruce reassured quietly, wanting to quash that train of thought before it started consuming him, "Did you need him less when you were enhanced?"

"No... I... he was my best friend. My rock. I was in situations that I had no map for, but I always felt better with him because even if he didn't know either, there was somebody just as lost alongside me who I could make the mistakes with and we could laugh about it. He'd always been strong, but I hadn't been and I could use him as a template... and... that's not even... for the military, or other things. I always needed him. And just because what I needed him for changed, it doesn't mean I needed him less."

"Alright, that's fair. That makes a lot of sense. But when you first turned up like that, I bet he was scared that you wouldn't need him so much anymore, because the thing he had always done for you was one you could do yourself."

"I... I never meant..." Steve was looking lost again, and Bruce leaned over to give him a gentle hug.

"You never stopped needing him, he just was scared, and then it took time for you to show him that you did still need him. It's not that he doesn't need you now, that he suddenly prefers Natasha or Clint or anything like that... but he's... not as unused to technology as you are, even if he may be unused to technology that works. He's not completely at sea, but Tony's place would throw anyone. You're a major factor in helping him adjust to that, and in helping him work out who he is. He needs you. Just because he's settling in, doesn't mean he needs you less. Even when he's more confident about his past and who he has become, he is still going to need you, because even after all you've been through, he is still your best friend. You are still the only familiar things from when life was good, and you are the thing telling him that maybe life can be good again some day. Don't underestimate that."

"So I haven't... hurt anyone?" Steve asked hesitantly, and Bruce shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. I mean I can't promise that because I'm not a mind reader, but it seems unlikely to me certainly. And I know you well enough to know that even if you had, you most certainly didn't do it intentionally." he offered Steve another cookie. He had plenty, and now they knew the recipe worked, Clint would probably make them again fairly soon. Besides, they seemed to cheer Steve up. "And so there is absolutely no point in feeling guilty about it. Don't dwell on it. Don't linger on things you didn't notice when you were bone tired and running on adrenaline seventy odd years ago, or the fact that your boyfriend, while a wonderful person and a certified genius has next to no people skills particularly not when it comes to communication in relationships."

That brought a weak smile to his face, and Steve nodded. 

"So you think... he still needs me?"

"Yes, I know he does. Just because he may have adjusted... that's not... your friendship is more than that, and it always has been. That doesn't change just because... he's more settled here. He will always need you, just like you will always need him. We all need you, Steve. That's not going to magically change overnight. You're an important part of this team, of this dysfunctional little family. And though at least a third of the people on the team would never be able to say this to your face, we love you. You're our captain. You're the guy who we can trust to watch our backs, to make the right calls, to see the whole situation when we're dealing with isolated little pockets. You are also one of the best men, if not the best man, I have ever met. You have some stiff competition since I also know Phil Coulson, Clint Barton and Tony Stark, but you know," Bruce grinned, "You're up there."

Steve looked a lot more relieved at that and Bruce didn't even hesitate to lean over and hug him gently.

"You are not a bad person for how you feel. You don't always have to put everyone else's needs and feelings above your own, even though as I say that I know you're not going to listen to me. You need time and patience, same as you'd show to anyone else. Maybe you bounce back physically due to the serum, but emotions aren't like that. You don't have to worry about being sent to Medical past the occasional check up, but you do need to make sure you're being honest about your emotions. Suppressing things isn't healthy."

"Alright, I... I'll try." Steve nodded, and Bruce squeezed his shoulder gently. 

"Good, that's all I ask."

"Thank you... I just... didn't know where else to turn, and you've always been so kind to all of us."

"I would say it's my job, but it's not. It's my pleasure. I'm glad I can help you, really. It gives me a bit of a purpose on the team, you know? Me, not just Hulk. I know you were all very good about that anyway, but it makes me feel better if that counts."

"It counts for a lot." Steve watched him, and Bruce could swear that he had never heard that much sincerity in a voice before. Steve had a way of doing that, he could even outsincere Tony on a press junket. "It really does count for a lot."

Bruce swallowed, feeling his cheeks flush, and nodded, standing to usher Steve out.

"Alright, well, thank you very much. I'm glad I could help you, and you know my door's always open if you ever need to talk about anything, including this, or anything else... whatever, you know? I won't always have cookies, but I will always have time, and I will always have tea. Will I see you at dinner?"

"No, I... I think Tony and I need to talk about things. But tomorrow we should be there."

"Does Tony know you need to talk about things?"

"No, but he will soon. He'll be in the workshop. He's always in the workshop. I'll go play fetch with Dummy till he reaches a good stopping point. It's a good, non-threatening way of reminding him that I'm there and that I'm not going to give up and go away no matter how much he tries to put me off."

"He's had years of practice."

"Not as much practice as I've had at being patient."

"Touché..." Bruce laughed as Steve waved goodbye, "Touché..."


	24. Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's gone sour inside SHIELD and, like most messes, Coulson's right at the heart of cleaning it up.

He was quite late settling down for tea today. While he was usually so strict about the routine of it all, finding that these days it helped to keep a proper work-life balance since he had so much more of an appreciation of what life was about, sometimes science just didn't quite cooperate with that. Besides, while it was almost an open office hour for the rest of the team to come and talk about whatever was on their minds - these days it was usually sharing successes - it was nothing fixed. A routine was all well and good, but if it couldn't afford for the vagaries of everyday life, then it wasn't one that he had any use for.

The knock on the door was business-like, but slow, and Bruce mused as he set his glass down and went to answer it, as to who it might be. Steve always knocked, Tony tended to knock and then open anyway... Clint came through the ceiling, and Natasha only knocked if she was upset. And Thor was pretty distinctive. Pepper didn't knock these days either. She would check with Jarvis whether somebody else was with him, not wanting to interrupt, and then simply walk in and settle next to him with her head on his shoulder, cuddled up close.

Agent Coulson was standing there, looking about as haggard as Bruce had ever seen him, post-New York aside. Nobody ever looked at their best after being stabbed in the heart. 

"Agent Coulson... come in..."

"Phil, please.... I'm sure we've been through this. I'm dating your brother. I live with you. We really don't need titles anymore."

Bruce smiled a little as Phil sat down without an invitation. Not that Bruce would have had the heart to deny one to someone who looked quite so exhausted. 

"...if I asked how you were...?"

"You'd probably regret the answer." Phil confirmed, glancing up, the bags under his eyes so deep they were almost bruised. 

"Alright... would you like some tea? It's fresh. Cammomile and honey."

"Will it help me sleep?"

"Almost certainly, inasmuch as anything will. It depends how much coffee you've had today."

"Do you mean, how much coffee have I had since I last slept, or how much coffee have I had in the last twenty four hour period?"

"...Ah. I take it things are busy then?"

"You could say that, yes...."

Coulson sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead as Bruce poured the tea. He reached for it almost straight away and took a long draught, seemingly unaffected by the heat of it. Bruce was fairly sure that, much like himself and Tony, years of drinking too-hot coffee to stay awake had given him a throat lining which resembled asbestos. 

"We have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"A big problem. A potential millions of people dead problem. A we don't know how far this goes but we know it's too far problem."

"That sounds like a pretty big problem."

"Turns out SHIELD's been infiltrated by HYDRA from the start. After we repatriated all those German scientists, recruited them to work for us... might as well have been an incubator for ideology as well. We've been poisoned from the inside, out. Now we're trying to work out who we can trust, and there's at least one agent of my level who's out."

"How did you find out?"

"Member of my team was a HYDRA spy. Last mission we were on... you know the one where Clint more or less moved into the range for three days? That one. He and I were captured. While we were in the cell together he came clean. Said they'd always told him nobody else would have his back. Kid got turned straight of juvie. No support system, no family... he was vulnerable. And apparently the man who became his SO knew just how to exploit that. Abandoned him in the forest. Gave him a dog. Let them bond, trained him, made him kill the dog..."

Bruce hissed, his stomach turning. It was a technique he'd encountered in some of the more distasteful militias he'd bumped into on his travels. It was a method of psychological torture you could use to break someone, trap them with guilt, remove any possible source of support they had to make them rely only on you.

Phil just nodded, his mouth a grim line.

"So. First thing we did was tell the Director. Now we're involved in the painstaking process of trying to work out who we can and can't trust. It's not just SHIELD, either. Apparently they're everywhere. So I'm going to be working overtime for the foreseeable future. So are Clint and Tasha and the few people in SHIELD we can trust. It may come to the point where we have to bring you in on it too. I hope it doesn't. But if it does..."

"You can count on me. On all of us." Bruce nodded immediately, "But if you'll excuse me for saying so, you need to sleep. You're not helping anybody, not functioning at your best when you're that tired. So go get Clint from wherever he is, and fall into bed until at least tomorrow afternoon, alright? That's official medical advice."

Coulson laughed and shook his head wearily,

"If only it were that simple..."

"Why isn't it that simple?"

"Because currently the people we know are clear I can count on both my hands. And that's without using all my fingers, particularly if we're talking about agents who are actively useful in the field. Not only am I needed in order to combat the threat, I'm also needed at the moment to help clear other agents as fast as we can so that we have some idea how far the contagion has spread."

"I can see that being simple." Bruce arched his eyebrow, trying not to smile.

"That and Clint and Tasha are already involved. Fury asked me to brief the rest of you but I... well. Haven't got around to it yet. And I'm not sure, with the greatest respect, that you could be of much use. You're not part of SHIELD, and you getting involved will just arouse suspicion. I guess if it comes right down to open war we'd be able to count on you, but other than that... it's a battle we have to fight on our own. It's... odd. It's the kind of thing the organisation is designed to cope with but not from within its own ranks."

"How's your agent holding up?"

"He'll be okay, eventually. I think it's... difficult for him. Which is understandable. But he's done the right thing, I just hope he can learn to let go of the guilt."

"We all know about guilt. Perhaps too much about it, but," Bruce shrugged "It's not something anyone else can really help with. We can reassure, we can logically analyse, but the heart is not governed by logic and that is what makes us human. I know what it's like to be alone, and to be honest I'd be willing to accept that being in a small group is probably harder because you feel responsible for other people. But I meant what I said, Agent Coulson. Phil. Your effectiveness is going to be severely hampered if you don't sleep. If you don't take care of yourself, then you risk making the group even smaller, and where will the world be then, when SHIELD falls? Because without you it will fall. You are a good man, a great tactician, a strategist and a soldier and... so many things. This is not open war yet. From the way you're talking, they don't yet know you know and you still have the advantage, and you will keep that advantage until you choose to reveal it. Hold onto it for at least another 8 hours while you get some sleep. Clint may be involved in this but I know he's still around because I've seen him. So, I'm serious. Go find him. Talk to him. Kiss him, touch him, remind yourself that he is real, that this is real, and that no matter how bad it gets this anchor exists, and then get some sleep. Will you promise me that?"

"I will promise you that if you promise that you won't breathe a word of this."

"I'm not going to tell anyone. That's not how I work, and who would I tell? You're going to tell us eventually anyway, though I would be careful about how you break the news to Steve. But..."

Bruce hesitated.

"It seems to me quite likely that the psych department will be quite heavily infiltrated. In an organisation like SHIELD it's a way of targeting and controlling and undermining vulnerable individuals. So you need someone outside who can support your team and who you can trust."

"Are you volunteering?"

"No, no..." Bruce smiled a little, almost sadly, "I'm not that kind of doctor."

"You seem to do pretty well."

"Thank you." the smile was genuine, warm and almost vulnerable as Bruce took another sip of his tea, "Thank you, but... no I was going to suggest Steve's running partner. Sam Wilson. Works counselling vets with PTSD. Also generally pretty useful to have on side, but I'm sure you could cut some kind of deal with him. And he's trustworthy. Pretty sure if he wasn't, we wouldn't still have Steve in such good shape. they go running together in the morning when there aren't many other people around. Perfect opportunity to take out Captain America, but they didn't do it. So."

"Alright. Thank you." Phil drained the dregs from his glass, "I'll speak to him. And right now I will go find Clint and persuade him to come to bed with me."

"Because that's always so difficult." Bruce commented archly, and Phil flashed a brief grin.

"I'll see you around Doctor, I'd say soon but I don't know how soon it will be. Take care, okay?"

"And you, Phil. And you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This plot arc is not going to be making many appearances in this continuity, though it does mean there's a chance the ducklings from AoS might show up. As always, my characterisation, my fic, my choices - and you seem to enjoy it given how popular this story seems to be! I'm certain I don't need to say this but I'm not going to tolerate any character bashing. Civilised discussion is fine! But let's keep it civilised.
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support, I hope you continue to enjoy the fic, please keep subscribing, faving, commenting, it really does mean so much to me.


	25. Tony

The lab which Tony had designed for him really was fantastic, Bruce had to admit. He had worked in some of the best labs in the world in the old days, and the army facilities had been far from shabby, but... well, when Tony had described the Stark Industries R&D division as Candyland, he hadn't been kidding. Especially not when it came to his own personal areas and pet projects.

At first Bruce hadn't been quite sure what to make of being a pet project. It wasn't entirely a foreign idea - his alter ego's existence had been the result of someone else's pet project he had been an unwitting participant in and that was more than enough to turn him off the idea. Except... except that that wasn't how Tony thought. That wasn't how Tony acted, or treated people. The way his mind worked was that of a true engineer, even in social situations. He analysed machines, people, situations, and found their weaknesses, or areas which could be improved upon. Not that Tony believed he was capable of improving people, or even that that was necessarily something that was possible. He was more than a little flawed himself, and he was perfectly aware of that to a degree which saddened most of those who knew him. No, rather he analysed their wants and needs and then did what he could to resolve problems, even those they themselves had not yet realised existed.

It was one of the things Bruce found most endearing about him, actually. He suspected that most of the rest of the team felt the same. Clint had the best weaponry he had ever owned (not that that said much when you realised that until SHIELD R&D first got hold of him he hadn't even had a weapon which shot straight, despite having a show which rather relied on that). He didn't just have a bow which was made of a special material Tony had developed to make it light, strong and compact, though, he had a range of sights for long distance shots, night-time shots and other difficult situations, he had a quiver which responded to pressure on the grip of his bow and allowed him to select from a wide range of arrow heads, ranging from net arrows to explosive arrows, to arrows with attached EMPs (which he had made Clint promise never to fire with him in the immediate vicinity). On top of all that he had new body armour. Including a little parachute because of various discussions about Clint's tendency to fall off and/or throw himself off buildings, which was generally disapproved of and on one occasion had ended in Natasha throwing a pillow at Clint's head. Privately, Bruce had very much agreed with her.

Natasha was another beneficiary of Tony's work. As far as Bruce was aware, Tony had developed two entirely new materials: one for Hulk, which stretched without tearing and gave him a modicum of dignity in his alternate form, and one for Natasha which worked like flexible body armour. She had an entire wardrobe of elegant dresses which could stop a bullet now, and Bruce was fairly sure the latest models dissipated force to the degree that, while she might bruise, she was at no risk of a cracked rib or any other such injury.

Steve wouldn't let Tony near his shield, which was fair enough, but Tony had done some nice work on Steve's motorcycle, which he had kept lovingly in the garage anyway, as yet another piece of his father's vast Captain America memorabilia collection. Bruce still wasn't sure whether they'd discussed that incredibly awkward subject. There was being proud of your lover's achievements and then there was having a purpose-built gallery which the Smithsonian was painfully jealous of, constructed by your father, and your now boyfriend's ex-abuser. Still, another upside of the collection was the expression on Coulson's face when Pepper had first taken him on the tour. Until then Bruce had never seen anyone else turn green (with the exception of his cousin), even if Phil was with envy rather than with gamma radiation.

Until Tony, Bruce had been more than a little used to everyone dancing around the rather delicate subject of his other personality. Of course he had heard of Tony Stark, and although he had a reputation in the press, from a distance there was some incredibly impressive PR work which couldn't entirely have been managed by outside sources, no matter how competent Miss Virginia 'Pepper' Potts might have been as the world's most underrated PA.

Meeting him in the flesh had shown Bruce the real Tony Stark, and the man had an astonishing ability for putting his foot in it, but he did in such a way that it never seemed to have real consequences. Bruce had become, with all his years of travelling, an observer, and Tony Stark was one of, if not the, most fascinating subject he had ever come across. Tony's persistence and inimitable charm, and the core of iron at his heart which he would never recognise, had ended up drawing Bruce back into the world of action, making him a participant rather than an observer. He was torn between whether to be furious with Tony for that, or grateful to him, but the longer he spent with the man, the more he knew that he could never really be angry with him for that.

Tony was lonely, at a very fundamental level. There wasn't a member of the team who wasn't. And yet somehow he drew them all together, put them under one roof and made it work. Bruce found himself having somebody to talk to for the first time in years, and felt the cobwebs being blown from his mind more and more with every conversation. He wasn't sure when they'd slipped into being friends, but he was glad of it, and the consideration that Tony had paid to him had left him completely speechless for the first time in years. 

He had read all of Bruce's old papers, reconstructed the research, designed a lab with every possible piece of equipment he could want and then some, put safety measures in place to ensure that if Bruce wanted to continue any experimentation on his blood he could do so without worrying about the consequences. These days, though, Bruce found that he wasn't drawn to that subject anywhere near as much as some others. Steve was happy with the serum, and that at least was relatively well understood, Jen had adjusted to her new life, and they went out for drinks once a month to catch up. They weren't close enough to be best friends, but they were friendly, and they were family. Family was important when you didn't have much of it. And Jen got on amazingly with Clint, which was very important. Most importantly of all, however, Bruce had come to terms with Hulk, and didn't want to imagine life without him anymore. He wasn't necessarily a boon or a blessing, sometimes he was more hindrance than help, but Bruce was in control these days, and Hulk was simply an aspect of the person he was rather than a problem that he felt he needed to solve. 

And most importantly, Bruce felt about the lab, Tony understood the importance of having a good couch in a research space. 

He was reading over the results of his latest experiment when he heard a knock on the door and looked up. He sort of appreciated the fact that people still knocked on doors, and he was sure it meant a lot to Steve. While it was true that Jarvis could easily alert people to visitors, it was something that anchored them to the present rather than the future, and was a much more effective way of startling them out of the occasional science related reverie. 

Tony was standing outside, and, although crestfallen was the wrong word, Bruce could see that he wasn't his usual chipper self. Nobody wore a mask like Tony Stark, but with almost ten years of learning to read people on the run, Bruce could rival Natasha's ability to see through things like that. 

He waved him in regardless, making sure to hit save on the files he was working with. There were too many cautionary tales from years of grad school and conferences with other researchers for him to be prepared to risk losing any key data. 

"Hey..."

"Hey big guy, am I interrupting anything?"

"No, no, nothing important. You know how it is, if it was important Jarvis would have let you know when I'd made things safe to leave. I can always make time for you."

"Thanks. I mean, if you are busy I can go..."

"No, Tony." Bruce replied patiently, knowing that when he was in this mood Tony wanted to make no allowances for himself and hated asking for help, "I'm not busy. What's on your mind?"

"Um... could we..." Tony's hands were twisting a little as he tried for displacement activity and didn't manage, "Could we grab some tea and talk? I mean, if you're sure you're not busy?"

"I'm sure." Bruce answered, shucking off his labcoat and smiling as he walked towards the door, "I'm sure."

Bruce led the pair of them back to his quarters, taking a deep breath as he walked through the door. He loved the smell of this place so much, and it never failed to relax him no matter what had happened. It was as if it flipped a switch in his brain. It wasn't entirely surprising that somebody who had been on the run for so long without really knowing what safety felt like would develop a kind of trigger associated with a safe place when he finally got one. And he had one now, and it was all thanks to the man who was sinking onto the couch opposite him, kicking off his shoes to put his feet up, trying to project the image the cameras knew so well and loved to hate. But Bruce wasn't buying it. Whatever it was that Tony needed to talk about it was something big, that was for sure. But Bruce couldn't quite focus on that past the immense sense of pride he felt that Tony had been able to reach out and ask for help. That not only had he reached out and asked for help but he had chosen Bruce to talk to.

One of the best things about Tony and Steve's relationship, aside from the sincere relief shared by all their team mates when they finally got it together, was the fact that they could talk to each other. They could read each other. Nobody was quite sure why because it stood to reason that, at least on the surface, they were completely different people. It was a great example of how opposites could attract. The real advantage was how Steve could get Tony to talk. Nobody was sure how he worked that magic, but the man who could front his way out of any situation, who was always ready with a cheap quip, a cheesy oneliner, had defensive claws that could leave you feeling as if you had to hold all your guts in with both hands if you pressed the wrong buttons. That never seemed to scare Steve though, and thus far it had worked out for him.

Nothing gave Bruce a warmer feeling inside (other than possibly seeing Pepper smile) than knowing that, however close Steve and Tony got, Tony had talked to him first. They were best friends and that was a different kind of relationship. He knew he could never be with Tony in the way Steve was, just as Steve could never be with Tony in the way Bruce was. Tony was different things to different people, they just knew they were lucky to be able to see as many sides to him as they did. 

"Tea while we talk, right?" Bruce asked, already reaching to set out the tea things, glancing up to see Tony's quick nod. The quick sharpness of his movements was a little bit of a warning sign, but still, Tony was letting it show, and that had to be a good thing.

"Do you have any preference?"

"No not really. I don't know enough to have a preference, Bruce."

"Have you got a little sweet tooth?"

"Well yeah, I guess you could say that..."

"I have some cacao tea. Tastes just like hot chocolate."

"Well why not just make hot chocolate?"

Bruce shrugged, smiling a little as he set the kettle to boil and glancing up again.

"No calories? That matters to some people. And anyway, you asked me for tea, not hot chocolate, so you're getting what you asked for this way."

"...Smartass."

"That's why you pay me. I'm the only one as smart as your ass, and I'm not afraid to show it. And I have a sense of humour which puts me miles ahead of a certain Reed Richards."

"Just Reed Richards. Not a certain Reed Richards. That to me implies that there is more than one of them and this world cannot cope with more than one Reed Richards. It might not be virtuous all the time but no planet deserves to have multiple Richardses visited upon it, not even as a sort of plague."

Bruce laughed and set out the glasses, glad to hear Tony joking. It always made him feel better to hear Tony's sense of humour come out, even when it was on the scathing side and directed at a professional colleague. If Tony ever let the opportunity to badmouth Richards slip, then they knew it was serious. Even if humour was displacement activity, it was the healthiest kind of behaviour Tony displayed. Which, unfortunately, did not say an awful lot.

"Alright... that seems fair."

Tony grinned and nodded, spreading his hands in an 'isn't it obvious?' kind of gesture, reaching for the glass when Bruce filled it.

"Careful, it's hot."

"I'm an engineer, Brucey baby. I'm fairly sure I've killed most of the nerve endings in my finger pads with all the hot things I've handled inadvisably over the years."

"Don't let Steve hear you talking like that."

"I said inadvisably. For me to admit that something I did like that was not wise is probably enough to send our dear Captain running laps around Central Park whooping for joy. He keeps trying to lecture me about health and safety and reasonable precautions and ignoring the fact that my working method has served me perfectly well for the last forty years and will undoubtedly continue to do so."

"Mmhmm. And by served you perfectly well, you mean...?"

"I mean I'm not dead yet, yes."

"Yes. And Jarvis, what is the running total of times Tony should reasonably have died by now?"

"We are not yet in triple figures yet, Doctor Banner, though it is in the high eighties."

"...You know, it's at times like these I can see Steve's point?" Bruce's eyes twinkled and danced as he teased his friend a little more.

Tony pulled a face.

"Don't side with him or I'll have your grant money withdrawn."

"You can't, Pepper's in charge of where Stark Industries' grant money goes. In fact she's in charge of where all of Stark Industries' money goes. And I'm sleeping with her."

"I'm fairly sure that's viewed as unethical and immoral practice."

"Yes but it's boring having to abide by ethics all the time."

"I couldn't agree more Doctor, I couldn't agree more. But damn, sleeping with the boss?! Why didn't I think of that!"

"You did, you weren't her type, and technically you were still the boss at that point and if you weren't sleeping yourself then I think you're probably due another existential crisis or two."

"Oh no, I got all those out of the way in college. It wasn't pretty. Ask Rhodey. Or don't, actually, now I think about it. You have way too much blackmail material on me already and he has even more. If the two of you joined forces I would never hear the end of it."

Bruce laughed and reached for the cookie tin.

"So what's on your mind?"

"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said it was nothing?"

"No, no I wouldn't."

"Damn. Why not? I don't suppose I could persuade you?"

"No. You couldn't persuade me. Because I know you, and if it was something that was bothering you enough to ask to talk I'm not just going to let it slide. Yes I know that talking can help anyway, and that sometimes when you're feeling bad just being around a friend helps, but I don't think this is that kind of talking."

He could actually see Tony deflate when confronted with someone who knew him well enough to call him on his bullshit.

"...Okay, fine. Sorry. I just... I hate this kind of time of year. Well. Not even the time of year. I... uh... it's kind of... more or less... the anniversary of my parents' death, you know? And I don't... My mother didn't really deserve the title and my father was a douchebag to say the least. But they were still my parents."

"It's... less about them than the effect it had on you?" Bruce guessed softly, and Tony nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. 

"Yeah. Probably I guess. I mean. It's just... that was the end of whatever childhood I'd really had. Not that there was much of it. There was no love lost, don't get me wrong, but it was a landmark moment. There is no way that losing your parents can't be."

"Yeah. I know that."

"Of course you do. I'm sorry, I guess this isn't... easy to talk about. I probably shouldn't have-"

"No, no, Tony it's fine. It's okay."

"Yeah but... you're right. It's... something that's relevant to you too, and it's selfish of me to just come here and expect you to listen to me unload, and-"

"Tony, you aren't unloading. I had to keep needling you to get you to even think about telling me what was bothering you. That's not unloading on someone. And you asked for help, which you never do unless something is really niggling at you - not that I'm not proud of you for it - and... this isn't about me. This is about you."

"But it affects you too."

"No, it doesn't. I never... had the same kind of relationship with my parents that you did. And I had a support system afterwards which allowed me to process what had happened and grieve. I also had access to psychiatric help, and I lived a private life. I wasn't in the public eye, trying to be someone I'm not. You never had a support system, you never had a family, you never had that same access to psychiatric help because all you had was the pressure to be perfect all the time and live up to the Stark name and the Stark image. You could never ever let your guard down. So no, this is not about me, this is about you. And you're not alone anymore."

"No..." he heaved a heavy sigh, "no I know that, I guess. That's why I'm here. That's why I'm trying... to, you know, show some emotional maturity. You're... you're my best friend, you know? You really are. And I've... never had that before. And I don't want to talk about this with Steve because he has his own memories of my father and his own cross to bear and those are all mixed up and jumbled together for him and I'm... he's dealing with Bucky coming back. And it's all good stuff and whatever, and I'm glad he's back and Steve is so happy... but he doesn't need the knowledge of this on top of all of that. And he's handled grief and he's supported men through grief, but I don't know how he'd react to this, and I don't know if I could handle it when he did. But you... you I trusted. Trust. You I know I can count on. And you were... predictable."

Bruce squeezed his hand gently, rubbing the back of it with his own calloused thumb.

"And sometimes you need something reliable. There are a lot of people who would say that Captain America is someone you can count on. But you're not dating Captain America, you're dating Steve Rogers, and he's just as human as the rest of us. And that's okay."

"Yeah... yeah. Thanks Bruce. I mean, seriously. Thank you."

"So... is there anything you want to say about your parents?"

"Other than I'm glad they're dead? Not really, no."

"Is that all you have to say on the subject?" Bruce arched an eyebrow, but he wasn't too severe about it. He understood perfectly well the relief it could bring when such people were gone... but that wasn't an easy thing to come to terms with in and of itself, with the pressure from society to respect your elders and to bear some kind of familial loyalty, especially when parents were involved. It was true that parents could be the most wonderful support system in a child's life, lasting far into adulthood with a bond which transcended pretty much everything. On the other hand, as he and Tony, and Clint, and Natasha knew all too well, they could be worse even than the opposite of that. Steve and Thor were aware of it too, even if the effects of it on them had been less direct. 

Tony shrugged, rolling the glass between his fingers and staring fixedly at the dark contents.

"More or less, yup... I mean... I... I'm not a good person. And that makes that easier to say. Because good people aren't meant to think like that. Good people are meant to love their family and be proud, and it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, yadda yadda yadda. Just as well I've never pretended to be a good person. It makes all this easier."

"You still fly your father's flag in public."

"That's different. That's not about him being my father, that's about him being a national hero. Personal is not the same as important, and whatever I may think of him personally, tearing his image apart would do nothing for my publicity stock in this country, and it would harm a lot of people while not helping anything."

Bruce nodded, taking a sip and letting Tony talk. It wasn't an easy subject to needle him about, or a particularly appropriate one, but nevertheless it was important for him to get this out, for Bruce to get him and keep him talking, whatever that took. 

"He was a genius. And... without him I would be dead. I mean, obviously it's not that simple. Without him I wouldn't exist, that's how fatherhood works, but the worst thing is the fact that I wouldn't still be walking around today with this in my chest without him." Tony tapped the reactor and leant forward, setting his glass on the table and bracing his elbows on his knees, ready to lecture now, and Bruce just settled in to listen, knowing this was a sign that it was finally all coming out after who knew how many years. 

"It isn't just the fact that I was never good enough for him that I resent him for. It isn't just the fact that even now, even when he's dead, people still look at me and see his ghost over my shoulder and I will never be able to escape his shadow, no matter what I do or what changes I make. That's why Iron Man is so important, because that isn't about being Tony Stark, that's just about being Tony and that's a way to atone for the blood that has been ground into my family's hands for generations."

"It isn't just what he did to me, what he made me become, it isn't just the fact that I was never a normal kid because I never would have been anyway, it's not just how he treated me like a toy, a publicity stunt, a demonstration model to be wheeled out to the press and then stored away afterward. It isn't just what he did to Mom. It isn't just what he did to Steve. Somehow honestly it isn't, because I hated him so much, down to my very bones, right in the marrow I hated him even before I knew what he did to my boyfriend. It isn't just that he married a good woman and then tore her down to the point where she was off her face on drugs the whole time rather than face the reality of living with him. It isn't just that she never deserved the title of mother and never looked twice at me, that I was never more of a nuisance to both of them. It isn't just that he was never a father. It's the fact that I cannot separate their deaths from what happened to me afterwards, and that's just selfish. They were dead. There was nothing they could have done. And hell, maybe my dad didn't know Obadiah would react like that... except they were best friends, and I don't think my dad would have been that different if the positions had been reversed."

Tony was shaking now, and rather than becoming louder, his voice had become quieter and quieter with every vicious sentence. Bruce was getting a real feeling of what it could be like to be on the other end of Tony Stark's anger... because this was anger, but it was laced with contempt and that made it worse. That made it harsher, colder, because contempt meant that you simply didn't matter. Anger was intended to hurt, and if it did not have its desired effect then that mattered, but it went hand in hand with guilt. Contempt had no knowledge of guilt and as the years went by Tony was getting further and further from it.

"It's the fact that they died and abandoned me, having given me nothing, they handed me over to Obadiah to be a tool, they left me to survive what he did to me, to be betrayed and used again and again until the point where he sold my life away. He wanted me dead. The man that I grew up calling dad in my spare moments, those rare moments we were close together because he was far more of a father than Howard ever was. And a better actor too, and my dad would not like to hear that. He always thought of himself as a consumate showman... but a showman doesn't need to be able to act more than one part and at the end the bottle had taken even that away from him and I can't even find it in my heart to be sorry. I am tired, Bruce... I'm tired of carrying all this guilt around when it isn't even mine to carry. Hatred is exhausting and I gave up on hatred a long time ago. What I can't shake is the feeling that I will never be good enough because I had it instilled in me since before I could walk, the same as I was taught to be a Stark and never show weakness. I was a tool, not a child, I was a means to an end, a legacy, and that... that feels like it never ended. I was a publicity stunt, as much company property as the missiles and guns we shipped out in their thousands. I wasn't a person. And I didn't learn to be a person after they were gone, not until the man they handed me over to proved that he was just as bad of a parent. The thing was, Howard and Maria, they neglected me. Obie was straight out harmful, intentionally so, but I honestly couldn't say that he was worse."

He stared into the glass he had set down contemplatively for a moment, then picked it up again and drained the dregs of it, finally looking up once more to meet Bruce's eyes.

"So that's why it's hard for me. Not because of them, not because of the ghosts haunting over my shoulder, but because of what they made me. It's always been about me, not about them. What kind of son am I that I can't even grieve them properly? I can't even summon up hate after all these years. I don't think I could ever manage love, there were too many broken hearted memories for that. But when I think about them, those thoughts are intrinsically linked with my own identity and it blurs and it hurts and I am left so lost as to who I am and hating their creation."

Bruce had felt his heart break during that speech. He knew what it was to be the target of a parent's wrath like that, but he had at least had his mother for solace some of the time. He had known what it should have been like, even if he had not actually had it. Tony had never had the chance to learn, and the armour he had developed had not only been necessary, but encouraged. It was hard to hear, even knowing his story, because there was so much pain in his best friend's voice, and Bruce just wished there was something he could do to make it better, make it easier... but he could not change the past. Nobody had that power. And so he would work now on changing the future, and on letting Tony know what he needed to hear.

"...you know there's nothing wrong with feeling like that?"

"It makes me a bad son."

"No, it doesn't, Tony. It makes you human. You could only be a bad son if you'd had parents in the first place, and there is a lot more to human parenting than simply the biological role. Anyone would be lucky to have had you as their child, but the fact that you grew up with people who were too blind to see that and more interested in taking advantage of you and exploiting you for all you were worth is not your fault. You're not a saint, nobody is, and feeling like that... all that resentment is deserved, it's merited, it's not like you're being irrational or selfish about it Tony... what they did to you was wrong, and you were failed by the system and betrayed by people you should have been able to trust and none of these things are your fault. None of them."

"I make it about me. I make everything about me, Pepper's told me that enough times."

"No, /they/ made it about you. They did that. And you don't make everything about you, Tony, you're just a master of deflecting things so it seems like they're about you in a superficial way to distract people from the details. But that's not you."

Tony swallowed, hands twisting in his lap in an attempt to conceal their shaking, displacement activity because if he allowed his mind to dwell entirely on what was being said there was no way he would be able to deal with it. He would just shut down, because that was preferable to having to face things like this. It was a defence mechanism, but he had been shutting down and escaping from things for far too long and though the idea of it made him sick he knew he had to confront some of these issues head on. That was why he had forced himself to come and talk to Bruce. He could trust Bruce about things like this. Bruce would understand. Even if he wished that weren't so. 

"I'm... sorry-" he began, but Bruce cut him off firmly.

"No. Don't be sorry. Because that's the thing, they made you believe there was something wrong with you, that you would never be good enough and that everything would always be your fault because that made you more likely to go along with whatever they wanted, to do what they told you. It made you less likely to talk back, fight back, it meant that they could get away with it all. So don't apologise for things that aren't your fault, because I am telling you here and now that that guilt is not yours to bear. And you have carried it for almost five decades. It's long past time to set it down."

"I don't know how to."

"Nobody knows how, but somehow... it'll come to you. There will be a way to let go. There will be something, some link that you've kept because everytime you look at it it twinges in your chest and reminds you that you are not good enough, that you will never be good enough and you must always keep striving to be better. That is what you need to let go of. And I'm not saying that... I know things like that are important, okay? I know... I know and understand how you think well enough to know that you will want something like that to keep you from going off the rails and that's fine, Tony. Keep the shrapnel or something, that's fine, but whatever you keep as your reminder has to be something that is yours, that is tied in with your identity and only yours, because no matter what your father said, no matter what they made you believe, you are not his creation, you are not their creation, you are your own man, and you are one of the best men I have ever known. So keep some kind of anchor to remind you who you were and what you have become. But keep your own anchor. Don't keep the things from them that remind you of all the years they made you into something else. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Tony stared at him for a long moment, and, as Bruce watched, his posture shifted from being hunched over in defeat to a straight back and square shoulders, ready to take on whatever was ahead, no matter what.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. It... it makes sense."

"Good. That's good. Can you think of anything obvious?"

"... Yeah, there are a few photos hanging around and... stuff that I... I knew I shouldn't keep but that I didn't want to say goodbye to. Sometimes when I got into one of my obsessive moods I'd pore over it, trying desperately to find that elusive key to whatever it was that would make me special enough, that would make me good. I never did find it."

"That's because you were looking in the wrong place. You'd already found the key but you were playing by their rule book, judging by their standards, trying to fit yourself into their mould. And no offence, but you were always doomed to failure with that because human beings don't conform to someone else's mould like that. Not even children. Especially not children like you. So do what you need to do, say goodbye to that stuff and maybe... maybe have a quiet evening with Steve. Talk to him. Tell him some of the stuff you told me. Because not only does he deserve to know, but I think he might be better placed to help you with it than I am."

"Because he knew my father?"

"No, because he knows you in a different way to me, and because he loves you unconditionally."

"Brucey baby are you saying you have conditions on our friendship? I'm hurt."

Tony clapped his hand to his chest in an overdramatic fashion, though his brown eyes were dancing again.

"Yes. A good night's sleep and unlimited access to your big sister's bed." Bruce replied, deadpan.

Tony grinned.

"You're a pervert."

"Of course I am, I'm friends with you, what did you expect?"

"Hey! That's not a contagious condition!"

"No, but we had to have something in common."

"Yeah I guess... maybe we should form a club, Perverts Anonymous."

"Nah. In the superhero community we'd be swamped for membership, and let's face it, who among superheroes is actually any good at staying anonymous."

"Touche!"

Tony was laughing again as he stood up, and Bruce mirrored the movement ready to usher his guest out as was only polite.

Tony hesitated for a brief moment, and then hugged him tightly, suddenly serious again.

"Thanks big guy. I knew I could trust you to say exactly the right thing."

"Yeah. Well." Bruce swallowed, a little embarrassed, "I try."

"You succeed better than anyone I've ever known. Take care, okay? And say hi to Pep for me. I have a super soldier to go hunt down."

"Yeah. Yeah." Bruce hugged him again for a moment, and then watched him go, "You take care too, alright?"

"You got it..."

Tony fluttered his fingers in a parody of a wave and headed off, considerably less cowed than usual. Bruce settled back into the sofa and drained the rest of his tea, musing on the conversation.

Tony had certainly given him plenty of food for thought, but the main thing was that he had been able to help, and that gave him a certain warm glow in his chest. He set the glass down gently, staring into mid-air, and a smile crept slowly across his lips. If Tony's dad was wrong, then maybe he wasn't the only one. Bruce got the feeling he was well and truly proving that he wasn't a monster after all. It was a good feeling.

He mused for a while longer, and then got up to clear the tea things, humming to himself under his breath with a new lease of energy. Tony hadn't been the only one who had needed some of those shadows cleared after all, it seemed, and he felt lighter than he had in years.

It was nice to be able to help his teammates, but this only went to prove that all that help certainly went both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support with this work, I hope you continue to enjoy it!


	26. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets pre-wedding jitters, and to be honest, when you're marrying a prince they're twice as bad.

Bruce looked around the hotel room and hid a smile. It wasn't like any kind of hotel room he had ever encountered before, but then, that wasn't entirely surprising when you were travelling on Stark Industries tab, with the entirety of the Avengers and some associated people. He couldn't help but idly wonder for a second how Pepper and Coulson would feel about being classified as associated people. That made him crack another smile, and he got up from the sofa to stretch. The journey had been quick enough, but he still found travel weirdly stressful at times.

His suite was absolutely stunning. He was fairly sure everyone on the team had a suite. Or at least, a suite between two. He and Pepper could have shared a suite, but Tony had decided to give them one each on the grounds that Bruce seemed to deal best with his own private space to think in, and Pepper needed an office. If there had been a way to book the two of them an entire floor, Bruce was sure Tony would have done, but hotels tended to balk at knocking down walls, even for the great Tony Stark, even when reminded repeatedly that he was the great Tony Stark.

Bruce was just glad he hadn't been asked to sign an insurance waiver.

As it was he had a master bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, and a private living room with a little kitchenette. Food came from room service, or from a trip down to the restaurant, but Bruce appreciated the freedom that came with a kitchenette. He had brought his tea and the paraphernalia with him, and had used the space to arrange it beautifully. He didn't see that the big occasion should interfere with his little afternoon routine, and he had a feeling that, with the stress levels running as high as they were, he might be needed in a semi-professional capacity to attempt to talk people down.

Thus far everything seemed to be going fine, but Bruce didn't want to lay any bets. Thor and Jane's wedding had about as much potential for chaos as about anything else he could think of. The hotel was hosting both the Avengers and the Asgardian delegation, and the whole week was planned out. There were bachelor and bachelorette parties, there was a group transportation to Asgard for the ceremony there, and then the trip back for the Earth ceremony the next day, there was an Asgardian feast, there was... well, a lot of food in general, actually, and SHIELD was taking the opportunity to start negotiations with Asgard about what was effectively an alliance.

Natasha seemed glad to see Darcy again, and Thor was, as always, ecstatic to see Jane again, let alone his warrior friends. He had made his choice to be part of Midgard and fight for it, but he did miss his friends at times. He hadn't said anything, but Bruce suspected that Thor hoped his brother might be present at the Asgardian ceremony. From what he knew, it would be in chains, but at least Loki might be there. Bruce was trying not to dwell on the effect that might have on Clint, but it was a difficult compromise to reach, and from some of the things Thor had said to him, Bruce doubted that excluding Loki from yet another major event would cause more good than harm. 

Natasha also seemed to be getting along very well with both Sif and Hogun, while Tony and Fandral were swapping stories in the corner of the bar about their conquests and Clint, Bucky and Volstagg were having an eating competition. Bruce had left them to it in the dining room, deciding he wanted to be well out of it, both the situation, and any possibility of the staff associating him with those three. He preferred not to dwell on the reputation they were probably accruing.

Pepper had said she would be on a conference call until two, but that after that she would come down to his rooms for lunch together. In preparation for that Bruce had tidied up a little. Housekeeping had done a wonderful job, but he was conscious of not always being the tidiest of people, and while Pepper knew him well enough to know that, he still preferred to have the atmosphere as relaxing as he could where she was concerned. She deserved that, and it really did make such a difference to them both. 

He flicked the switch on the kettle and began looking through his selection of tea to pass the time.

Somehow the knock at the hotel room door didn't come as a surprise, and it was with a small smile playing on his lips that he crossed the room to open it, ready to welcome whoever it was to his space, despite how different it was from what he was used to. That didn't matter. What mattered was helping whoever it was feel at home, and having a nice conversation. It wasn't always about problems, and he was grateful for that. Not that he minded when people did want to talk about their problems, of course, he was more than happy to help, but the fact that people came to talk to him about other things too was what made him happiest of all.

It made him feel like he really belonged, like he was really part of this dysfunctional group of people. He wasn't going to lie to anyone by pretending they weren't that dysfunctional. Mainly because he didn't know anyone who would believe it these days. And he couldn't blame them for that either. But still. Natasha coming to discuss old fairy stories from various cultures and give him a chance to practise languages he had half forgotten, Clint coming with some new baked good or the determination to drag him into a pillow fort, Phil or Pepper coming to talk for the sake of talking... even if sometimes when Pepper came to visit they spent more time using their mouths for other things than talking. Bruce had never really thought of himself as a good kisser before now, Pepper had been quite happy to change that little opinion of himself. 

He was quite surprised to see Jane there, but glad. It being her wedding week he hadn't been expecting to get any private time with his friend, even though she was usually so careful about allocating it. Making time for a friend on a business trip was quite different from making time for a friend in the week you were getting married to someone who, Bruce was sure, technically qualified as an alien.

Bruce smiled, and stepped back, ushering her in.

"Jane... what a pleasant surprise, please come in... how is everything? I'm sure this week must be very stressful."

"You mean you don't think The Avengers come under anybody's classification of easy wedding guests?"

"I think between us and the Asgardians you're lucky there haven't been any intergalactic incidents. Not between the two factions, of course, we get on far too well. I'm just surprised the... exuberance hasn't spread further."

He paused and raised an eyebrow, suddenly frowning, his brow furrowed.

"It... hasn't spread further, has it?"

"No, not yet."

"Then please do come in and sit down. I just boiled the kettle."

She smiled and walked in, shaking her head.

"You and your tea. I never understood it. Not that I don't appreciate it, but most self respecting scientists I know run on coffee. And that includes the British ones. And Tony Stark, even though he barely qualifies as self respecting."

"I'm not sure what Tony respects, but it is not and has never been himself. Quite sad, really. I think Steve's working on that but I'm not sure what kind of progress he's made."

"If he's made any progress at all I'm pretty sure the poor guy deserves a medal."

"I'll talk to Pepper about getting one made." Bruce deadpanned, and Jane smiled, making herself comfortable on the sofa.

"So... you and Pepper..."

"Yes, me and Pepper. What about me and Pepper?"

"How serious is it?"

"It's... pretty damn serious, actually. But we don't talk about that much. We're mostly just grateful for the mutual injection of sanity in an insane world."

"She makes you happy?"

"She makes me happy." Bruce confirmed, and Jane nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

"And you make her happy?"

"I try to make her happy. Thus far, I think I've succeeded."

"Good. She deserves to be happy. Not that you don't either, I just..."

"I'm not entirely sure where that was going."

"Neither am I for that matter. There's a societal expectation for women to be more badly off outside a relationship than men, but a) that's bullshit, and b) that wouldn't apply to Pepper even if it were true. She would have struggled to find anyone because of her job and you would have struggled to find anyone for other reasons. Not that I'm saying it's fair, because it's not, I'm just stating a fact. And that I'm glad two of my best friends found each other."

Bruce laughed and nodded, pouring the tea and carrying the two glasses over, making himself comfortable on the couch.

"So... was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about, or did you just stop by to say hello because you're officially greeting everyone in the building?"

"Official greetings were yesterday. No, mainly I'm just... really glad to see you. Really glad. I know I don't get up to New York nearly as often as I should. I suppose that's because Thor fell in love with it down here and he can fly down easily enough, so he comes and visits us here and it's easy to let months go by without reciprocating."

"You know you're always welcome, right?"

Jane smiled, 

"Is that in spite of noise proofing issues?"

Bruce laughed and sipped his tea.

"I think so, yes. It's good to know you're happy?!"

The two of them collapsed into a giggling fit which prevented any serious conversation for a while, and took a couple of minutes to calm down again. When her breathing had finally evened out, Jane traced patterns idly in the surface of her tea with her finger, seemingly oblivious to the heat of it.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Bruce sat up a little straighter and frowned, reaching for her hand.

"Jane? Are you having cold feet?"

"No! Not cold feet exactly, and definitely not about Thor. I love him. I love... everything about him. I love the way he speaks and the stories he tells and the wonder in his eyes at everything he sees. You couldn't want for a more supportive partner than Thor. And he's amazing in the sack."

"I think the whole tower is acquainted with the last of those facts, not least because of his seeming dislike of clothes."

"I'd say I was working on that but... eh..." Jane grinned at him and Bruce chuckled softly, taking another draught of tea.

"So what do you mean by doing the right thing?"

"I... I love Thor. But choosing to be with Thor is not simple, and it never will be. I'm well acquainted with relationships that come with baggage, but he comes with a whole kingdom which looks down on us as technologically inferior, which, I suppose we are, a Father who is king, and yet who will never die... he comes from such a different culture, and I've met some of his friends, and I've met his parents, and I'm just... not sure whether I can actually step up to what they want from me. I know I can manage what he wants from me, that's easy enough. He literally just wants me to be me. He has never asked any more of me than that, and he has helped so much with my research. He's not an idiot, you know? He thinks about things in a different way and he has a different frame of reference to anything any of us could possibly experience. He's a warrior, not a thinker, but he does have a brain and I can talk to him. I can talk with him. He's always happy to listen to me, especially about my research, and I don't know whether it's the subject, or whether it's just that I make it interesting for him, but... well, Thor is perfect. But he is a prince, and first in line to the throne, with a mad brother, in a culture which will likely put him on the front line of a war before long. His mother is an amazing lady. She conducts herself with impeccable grace and elegance and she is more self possessed than anyone I've ever met, including Natasha. And I look at Thor, and everything I have seen of his world, and I ask myself whether I will be too much of a fish out of water to be able to manage. I am marrying Thor, and I choose Thor and that will not change. But I hope that it makes sense I might be otherwise nervous. I can't live up to everything he's known before."

Bruce squeeed her hand.

"Jane... you don't have to live up to them. You don't have to live up to Frigga, you don't have to live up to Sif, you don't have to live up to Thor or Odin. You just need to be yourself. That is the only thing Thor has ever asked you to measure up to, and we both know, because we know you so well, that you will always, always exceed."

She watched him for a long moment, and her bottom lip quivered, but she took a sip of tea and when she set her glass down the line of her jaw was strong. Bruce smiled, knowing that she had taken his words to heart, and that hopefully he had said exactly what she had needed to hear. He understood what it was to have that crisis - he did not know anyone who would not understand, but Jane was different. He had always known she would measure up to any challenge placed in front of her, and while marrying Thor was not a challenge, he could understand why all the baggage that went along with it might be menacing.

"You know, you're right. He chose me. They chose him, but he chose me. And that has to count for something. He's smart, Bruce. He's smart. And I just..."

"You just needed reminding that here on this planet he is just a guy. Well, not just a guy because the whole demigod thing doesn't exactly have an off switch. But you needed to hear that you are equals and you deserve not to get swept up in any of the ceremony of it that you don't want to, including whatever his family decides."

"Somebody's background is a pretty major thing..." Jane retorted with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce shrugged.

"In all honesty? I don't think it is. Not for us anyway. Thor is about the only person on this team who can be said to have had a healthy family life. Considering what happened with his brother, I'm not so sure that that says a lot. My father was an abusive alcoholic who murdered my mother. Tony's father was an abusive alcoholic and his mother was high on tranquilisers the whole time. Clint's parents were abusive when he had them, and abandoned him with his bullying older brother to the system, from whence he ended up in the circus, in the hands of more abusers and bullies. Natasha has no memory of anything approaching a family and only knew a twisted sisterhood of lies and manipulation. Steve's dad never came back from the war as the man who had left for it. Background doesn't define you. Just because Thor's isn't fucked up in the way the rest ours are, it doesn't have to define him either."

"His mother seems really nice..." Jane said wistfully, "I'd be happy to have her as my mother in law. I'm just less sure about his father."

"In all honesty, if your misgivings are about what Thor's future would be, I would say asking Frigga might be your best idea. You've already said that you like her and you're not scared of her, and she will listen to your concerns and be able to explain things. I'd love to be able to help more, but I can't be of much practical use to you because I don't understand the nuances of Asgardian politics."

Bruce drained his glass and smiled warmly at her,

"Besides, Thor adores you. You can see it every time he looks at you, says your name, or actually just thinks about you. This is coming from someone who lives with him and has seen him absorbed in many a reverie about you. If it bothers you that much, I am fairly certain he would renounce the throne for you."

Jane laughed as she stood, calmer now, the lines in her face smoothed out and the shadows in her eyes gone.

"You're probably right, but I'd never ask him to do that. Kind of neat to think about having that power though..."

Bruce stood to embrace her again, chuckling,

"Don't let it go to your head. We're already mad scientists. You don't need anymore power."

She pouted, but held her arms out for a hug.

"You're boring."

"I know," he agreed, barely keeping a straight face as he cuddled her tightly, "I'm excruciatingly boring. I don't know why any of you keep me around."

"We appreciate your skills. And a little boring is useful every once in a while."

"Where would you be without me." Bruce deadpanned, smiling widely again and waving as Jane left, a spring in her step now the weight of two worlds was lifted from her shoulders.

He set the glasses by the sink and glanced at the suit hanging on the outside of the wardrobe. He was looking forward to the ceremony, it was a part of normality he had never thought he would experience again, and now... by some miracle, he was getting to live a perfect life. Well, perhaps not perfect, but better than he had ever dreamed of before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving to Finland to study abroad for a year! I wanted to make sure you guys got your monthly updates before I moved. As a present, when I get settled in I'll be working on the next oneshot in the series - see if you can guess what that might be about!
> 
> And, as I'm sure you're aware, you can't have a Jane chapter without a Darcy chapter, so she will definitely be appearing in either the next chapter or the one after, as well as featuring largely in the oneshot too. I can't promise whether she'll be next or not, because it might be Thor, but I shall see how it goes!
> 
> Much love to everyone who is reading and reviewing and leaving kudos, I hope you continue to enjoy my crazy little universe!


	27. Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane is not the only one with pre-wedding jitters

Bruce had spent the evening cooking a very nice dinner. Ordinarily he would have shared it with Pepper, but she had had a gala to attend. He had sort of thought that possibly coming all the way out to New Mexico might have given her a breather from events like that, if not from the rest of her work, but apparently it was not to be. He couldn't complain too much, and besides, it wasn't like he was unhappy in his own company. He had had years by himself, after all, and much as he loved her, part of the strength of their relationship came from their ability to give each other space and quiet understanding. It could be like balm for the soul at times, and god knew they needed that.

He was sat on his sofa, reading a book for a little while before bed, and sipping a glass of rose tea when a knock which was obviously an attempt to be subtle but yet was strong enough to shake most of the room, including the sofa he was very comfortable on, sounded at the door. 

Bruce put down the book, shaking a little with silent laughter as he crossed the room to answer it. It had to be an Asgardian, that much was certain, and while he couldn't be entirely sure it was Thor, since there was a chance Volstagg had gotten drunk again and Bruce had somehow been roped in as a drunken dare in whatever game the others were playing, Bruce felt that his team mate was more likely. 

He sincerely hoped that this wasn't going to be Thor's equivalent of Jane's visit earlier. He could deal with negotiating culture shock, that was easy, but any hint of a sense of inferiority from Thor would throw him completely. It wasn't that he was arrogant, but he had been trained from birth to be confident in his own abilities, and it showed. That was not necessarily a bad thing, but it would require more time to wrap his head around than Bruce necessarily had before the wedding. 

He opened the door, and the blond bearded head was as familiar as ever.

"Doctor Banner, please may I come in?"

Bruce managed to regain his composure and stepped back, permitting entrance and swallowing his laughter though a smile still danced on his lips.

"Of course, please do."

Thor noticed the book Bruce had placed aside and made to turn round.

"I am sorry, I have interrupted your studies. I could return another time."

"No, Thor, please come in. It's alright. I wasn't studying, I was just reading for pleasure."

"If you are certain it is not inconvenient?"

"I give you my word. What's on your mind?"

"I love my lady Jane dearly, and I am so glad to finally have this opportunity to show our love before the world, and to be able to state my intentions clearly. It would be easy enough for them to be dismissed in their sincerity, given the differences in our origins and status, but I cannot imagine a woman greater than she is. Thank you for assisting me in the design of this plan to make it clear how much I feel for her. I did so want to be able to make a gesture such as this but Ihad not the wherewithal to do so, on Midgard at least, and the resistance I faced in Asgard made me worry that she would be so unwelcome there as to be uncomfortable. Of course, I was wrong about that, the Asgardian people are... it is flattering that they are so filled with joy at the news that their crown prince has found a consort, even if she is Midgardian, and not of royal blood. I am certain that they will accept her as their own."

Even throughout that speech, though, there was something that did not quite ring true, and Thor didn't meet Bruce's gaze. 

"Alright, well... that's good..." Bruce replied, cautiously, "So... is there anything worrying you? You sound like you're pretty confident about everything. Especially about Jane."

Thor waved a hand dismissively.

"There is nothing in all the nine realms that I am as certain of as I am certain that wedding Jane is the greatest honour I could hope to have bestowed on me."

"But?" Bruce prodded insistently.

Thor sighed, looking slightly crestfallen, as if he had deflated from the pride associated with his lover. 

"...But I am concerned that it is not right for Jane. I would not wish for her to bind herself to me and then it be a mistake she curses for the rest of her days. It seems that, as we approach the happy day, she has become more withdrawn, more hesitant, and I worry that I have done something wrong. I love her more than there are stars in all the heavens, and while it is my dearest wish to marry her, I would rather die than make her so unhappy."

While some people were prone to use the phrase in a moment of dramatics, Bruce had no doubt that Thor was entirely serious. He was not one to exaggerate, but rather, as a warrior, it was probably a statement of fact. 

Bruce gently rested his hand on Thor's for a moment, the gesture intended to be one of reassurance.

"I promise that she is not regretting agreeing to marry you. She is really looking forward to it. She loves you."

"Then why is it that she is so distant?" Thor's eyes were wide, innocent and imploring.

Bruce smiled a little to himself. Thor was without a doubt an intelligent man, though it was sometimes easy to lose track of that thought when overwhelmed by his patterns of speech. There were still moments like this, though, when he was endearingly childlike, and it never ceased to amaze him. 

"She's scared..." Bruce explained gently, and Thor's expression was truly pained, as if someone had taken a knife to him. 

"What have I done to cause my love such fear?"

"It's not you. It's nothing you've done. She's just really scared that she won't be able to measure up to your family's expectations of her. She feels very out of her depth at the thought of being a princess, and she really doesn't want to disappoint you."

"How could she think she might disappoint me? I would renounce the throne in a heartbeat for her... indeed I have considered it many times, but my brother is... well, he is no longer a suitable candidate in my stead. I often wonder how it would have been different had my father chosen to bestow the title on Loki instead of me. Perhaps he would not have felt so alienated... and I remember when we were young, truly he would have been a wiser ruler than I. He was much better suited where I was young and reckless. My father taught me the error of those ways well, but still I wish that these things had ended differently."

Bruce nodded slowly, always intrigued by Thor's reminiscences about his brother. Privately he also found himself wondering sometimes how things might have been, but he did not dwell on it. It did no good wasting time ruminating on things which were not and would never be, when there was so much more to be gained from considering and reacting to the present. 

"I must confess the reason for my visit, doctor."

Bruce nodded, and hid a smile as Thor's eyes fell on his teapot. He was using the glass one today, and the contents was a rather pleasant colour, but still. There were subtler ways to state one's intent.

Bruce reached for the pot and glanced up inquisitively, glad to see Thor's familiar grin light his face.

"Would you like some tea while we talk?"

"Truly I find that your choice of beverages loosens the tongue, and one does not weary so much of talking while enjoying them. It is nice to be able to drink while retaining one's sensibilities, especially of such important matters as my lady Jane."

Bruce poured a glass, and Thor lifted it to the light, admiring the jewel like intensity of it. 

"Fragrant indeed, it reminds me of my mother's garden where she and my brother whiled away many hours in good and happy company... but those days are long gone."

"Everything is cyclical. Maybe one day your brother will be able to share those gardens with your mother again one day." Bruce shrugged, and sipped his own tea, topping it up where it had gotten a little cool, "So, what did you come to talk about?"

Thor studied his tea with far more focus than it required, prevaricating before glancing up to meet Bruce's eyes, his own strangely defeated.

"...I came indeed to talk about my lady Jane. I am unhappy to hear that she is scared, but I must confess I was concerned that I was asking too much of her. My family would be pleased to welcome her, even my father has finally give his blessing to the union. My mother looks upon her with great affection already, and the realm will delight in her the way I do, I am certain of it. The warriors three and the lady Sif know her already and have told tales of her doings. But while this is a union I desire above all things... I desire her happiness more, and I would not go through with it if it will simply cause her distress."

Bruce smiled softly. It was so like Thor to have concerns for his lover rather than himself. Pre-wedding jitters were common enough, but it was far more usual to have them for yourself and the commitment you were undertaking than, effectively, on behalf of the other party. 

"I wonder if she would be happeir with a Midgardian, one who is her intellectual equal... one with whom she could live a normal life."

"But she chose you," Bruce pointed out softly, "She chose you, and she chose you several times. She followed you even when you could have been crazy because she was drawn by her fascination with everything you meant... and since then she has fallen even deeper in love with you. When you disappeared and could not return, she tried to move on and couldn't. She loves you. She's scared of disappointing you. She's not scared of hard work. She doesn't know if she can be what you want her to be because she doesn't realise right now that all you want her to be is herself. So I think the most important thing that you can do right now for Jane is to go and speak to her about this. Remind her that you fell in love with her, just like she fell in love with you, because of everything you are and not in spite of it."

Thor took a deep draught of the floral tea.

"Truly you speak words of wisdom, doctor. It amazes me how deep your understanding of such complicated matters is."

"Sometimes all you need is an outside perspective to help things make sense, that's all," Bruce smiled, "Now, you're talking to the wrong person."

"Aye..." Thor's own smile was back, and spreading, "I shall go to her and reassure her. Perhaps I should take her to meet my mother again in a less formal setting. If anyone can put my lady Jane's mind at rest it is my mother. She has a calming way about her which I have never understood, but always been grateful for. Thank you again for your infinite patience, Doctor. We would all be lost without it. You are invaluable to the team. I will be honoured to have you by my side at the ceremony tomorrow, and I must thank you for the friendship you have long shown lady Jane."

"My pleasure, Thor," Bruce stood to usher him out, "My pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Goodnight, Doctor, and rest well!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm settled in Finland now, and working hard in the lab! Sorry this chapter is so late in the month, it's been incredibly hectic and I was very tired for the first few weeks, but things seem to be settling down. I hope you enjoy this, and hopefully these last two chapters will be paving the way for a two-shot either next month, or as a contribution to my NaNoWriMo wordcount in November!
> 
> Please do carry on commenting and reading and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!


	28. Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big brothers can be protective, and when you have a huge favour to ask, Coulson usually finds bribery is a good policy to adopt.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the marvellous flightinflame.

Bruce was awake fairly early in the morning. It had been made clear to them that the entire duration of the stay had a timetable, and while there was some flexibility built into that, and some down time, to allow for various members of the very large and excitable party needing to decompress, certain things were set as standard across the board in an attempt to make sure that everything that needed to be done could get done.

The morning was one of those things. It wasn't necessary to all eat breakfast together, mainly because the hotel had begged that that not be the case other than the morning after the wedding because that many enhaced appetites at once was verging on a nightmare. Instead they were simply all expected to be capable of interacting socially by 10 am, which meant being awake, showered, breakfasted, dressed (that had been re emphasised several times in the actual instruction) and generally almost human. There hadn't been anything said about hangovers, mainly because for most people challenging an Asgardian meant they deserved what they got. Natasha was still unbeaten though, and Tony was pointedly refusing to have anything to do with the contests, the spectre of his alcoholism still haunting him.

Bruce had made a habit of getting up early, doing some stretches and a little bit of meditation before the day got truly underway, and then having a leisurely breakfast in an attempt to store up his strength to deal with whatever the day ahead would hold. It had the potential to be many things, but boring was not one of them. Fortunately the delegations were still getting on amicably, but Bruce's tolerance for chaos was not necessarily as elevated as some people's.

He knew Natasha tended to rise early, whereas Clint stayed koalad to Coulson in bed for as long as possible and Tony viewed it as treason if he was made to rise before the meridian. Steve had made it clear that it was just for these few days and Tony, please, it would mean so much to everyone and cut down on Jane's stress, which is the least you can do, and I promise I'll make it up to you when it's all over. Pepper would be up already, he was sure of that. Sometimes they ate breakfast together, but other times they took advantage of the opportunity to have some space before the craziness kicked in, and besides, she was still trying to run Stark Industries from her hotel room for a few days. All in all it was easier if he stayed out of the way. 

He put the kettle on to make his own tea, and was scanning the breakfast menu, debating what to have, when a knock at the door made him start. He double checked his watch. No, no, he definitely wasn't late. It was only 8:30, that left plenty of time. He much preferred not being rushed in the morning. Even though he had complete control over himself, and his rather more boisterous alter-ego, everything functioned better if it was calm and measured, and there were plenty of people around him who desperately needed that calming influence. It was part and parcel of being part of a family of broken people, and he didn't mind that at all. 

He set the menu neatly down and opened the door, blinking slightly in surprise to see Agent Coulson waiting outside. 

True to form he stepped aside to let the man in, and smiled, blinking slightly, before the scent of sugar and spice hit his nose and he noticed the bags he was carrying. 

"Good morning Doctor, I hope I'm not disturbing you too early?"

"No no, not at all. I was just considering what to have for breakfast. Would you care to join me?"

"Actually I was rather hoping that you hadn't eaten just yet, hence why I grabbed something nice... as a... peace offering, if you will?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Peace offering? I wasn't even aware we were at war."

"We're not! At least, I don't think we are. I just... wanted to talk to you about something that might be a sensitive subject, and... well..."

"Bribery can make difficult conversations easier?"

Phil smiled, relaxing a little, and nodded.

"Something like that..."

Bruce laughed softly and answered the kettle's whistling summons, moving to pour the water.

"Can I offer you some tea?"

"Do you have any coffee? It's bad for me I know but... well, at this time in the morning it's about the only thing that will hit the spot. Conditioning I'm afraid. Military then SHIELD, sleep is..."

"I would like to warn you now that 'sleep is optional' is a very dangerous attitude to espouse in front of a doctor. Especially one whose significant other repeatedly needs reminding of this fact."

"I don't know, there are certain facts I think Clint forgets on purpose because he enjoys the reminders..."

Bruce laughed as he portioned out the coffee - "Is instant alright?" - before finishing the drinks up and carrying them both over to the table. 

"Black, right?"

Coulson nodded, taking a sip and savouring the burning heat as it rolled over his tongue. 

"Like my soul." He quipped.

"Or your suits."

"Or that. Most people don't think I have a soul."

"What proportion of the junior agents are in on that book about you being a robot that Natasha and Sitwell were running?"

"I think we're up to about 80%, so Natasha is in charge of organising the Christmas party this year."

"We're having a Christmas party?"

"Well, if we have one this year and Natasha organises it and the whole team shows up, then Clint is very unlikely to ask me for one next year as a result of how this year's will have gone."

"...How much do I need on standby in terms of medical supplies?"

"Probably a lot, but not as much as wherever our venue is will need insurance coverage."

"Fair point."

Coulson smiled and pushed the bag he had set down on the table towards Bruce.

"Here, we should eat before they get cold. I mean, they're still good cold, they're just better hot. And with coffee."

Bruce laughed and tore open the paper.

"Ooh, fresh donuts... where did you get them?"

"I know a place," Coulson shrugged, "actually, I know a place in most places Clint and I have had missions. He has a weakness for the Little Debbie ones too, but the circus means that real fresh cinamon sugar donuts make him really happy."

"And you thought fried dough covered in sugar was an appropriate breakfast to share with a doctor?"

"I thought its emotional weight with your brother might count for something?" Phil tried hopefully, and Bruce laughed and devoured one of the donuts whole, savouring the warm sweetness. 

"They're perfect. I'm guessing you know places because you know how happy they make him."

"More or less. It takes a ridiculously small amount to keep Clint happy really, in the grand scheme of things, and I just like to do what I can."

Bruce shrugged, toasting Coulson with another donut, this one half-eaten already. 

"You seem to do an awful lot. I had a lot of hopes for him and with you and with your help, well... he's more than fulfilled them. And I see him with you and I see him so happy. There are still traces of the sadness I could see in him as a child, but that's all they are now. Traces, flashes, nothing more in daily life anyway, and you... well, his face lights up when you walk into the room. If you look after my brother and make him happy that's all I could ask of anyone. Clint's chosen you, and I think you and Natasha are two of the best choices he's ever made."

"And you." Phil replied seriously, glancing up from his own selection of donuts to meet Bruce's gaze, "I don't know if he would have lasted long enough for us to get to him if he hadn't known you."

"Well..." Bruce shrugged and trailed off, embarrassed, deciding to take refuge in his own breakfast, letting Phil explain whatever it was he was here to talk about.

The two of them sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes before Phil cleared his throat again, straightening his tie and staring at the carpet pattern in seeming fascination.

"So... Well. As you probably guessed, I'm here to talk about Clint."

"You amaze me."

Phil's gaze flashed up for a second, but then dropped down again, and he cleared his throat.

Bruce's smile was amused. He didn't think he'd ever seen the great Agent Coulson this nervous, and he didn't think anyone would believe him if he ever tried to tell anyone. 

"...Well... this... thing..." he waved his hand vaguely at their surroundings, and Bruce, deciding to be virtuous and helpful, completed for him,

"Wedding."

"Yes. That," he cleared his throat again, "This wedding has... really got me thinking. I mean, Clint and I have been together a very long time. A very long time. And I... I'm fairly sure that we'll be together forever. Forever for us might not be that long given the line of work we're in, but I can't imagine being with anyone but him, and that's... that's what matters. And I always thought we were fine rubbing along as we were but then I started thinking... what if Clint thinks that he's not good enough for me to want to marry him? I mean, it's not like I couldn't. Same sex marriage is legal in New York state and SHIELD recognises same sex couples for benefits and everything so... I could. I always thought it didn't matter to him, but I don't have a great history with being right about whether or not things matter to him. He's learned to hide it well because he never got what he wanted because he wasn't good enough, or for whatever other reason. And I figure... if he doesn't want to get married, that's fine, but I should at least ask. Because if I could marry him, if I could call him my husband, then... then one day I would die an even happier man than I would have from simply having had him in my life. So I guess what I'm asking, in an incredibly roundabout way, is... do I have your permission to ask your brother to marry me?"

Bruce had been watching him very carefully, his tea steaming half-forgotten on the table beside him. 

When he was sure that Coulson had finished, he took a slow, deliberate sip, never breaking eye contact, enjoying the fact that, for once in his life, he could make the man sweat. 

He set the glass back down, equally slowly, equally deliberately, and swallowed, licking his lips.

"...Have you asked Natasha?"

That seemed to break the tension a little bit, and Coulson nodded, relieved that he hadn't said an outright no.

"She said something about it being my responsibility to feed and water him, and that he might be her pet but he was now my problem."

Bruce had to bite back the urge to smile at that, wanting to hold onto his cards as long as possible.

There was naked hope in Coulson's eyes, and although it was fun to tease, Bruce couldn't hold back any longer.

He nodded, breaking into a grin. 

"Yes. You do have my permission. You absolutely do, because you make him happier than anyone I've ever seen, and I trust you to take care of him. But make no mistake, Agent Coulson, if you hurt him, there will be nowhere in the world that Agent Romanoff and I cannot find you."

Coulson shivered and nodded.

"Duly noted, Doctor Banner. Duly noted."

He paused, and stared down at his coffee again, as if wondering how it had got there. 

"So... would you be the best man?"

Bruce laughed and nodded, stealing another donut and draining his tea.

"If you wanted me to, I would be honoured, but Clint gets first dibs."

Phil smiled back and finished his coffee, moving back to his feet and dusting the cinnamon sugar from his hands, holding one slightly sticky one out to shake.

Bruce stood and shook it gladly, still smiling. 

"I'll hold you to that promise, Doctor Banner."

"As I will hold you to yours, Agent Coulson. Make no mistake."

"Thanks Bruce."

"You're welcome, Phil. Thanks for breakfast, it was delicious. I think I'll take the last few up to Pepper, if that's alright?"

"That's a great idea, thank you. I'll see you both later, yes?"

"You absolutely will. Now, since I'm sure you already have a ring, you'd better start thinking about how to pick your moment. And even though it would be hilariously appropriate, please don't have the ring delivered by a bird of prey."

Coulson paused, and held up a warning finger, hesitating in consideration...

"You know, Clint would probably love that..."

Bruce laughed and ushered him towards the door,

"Yes, but Jane will be upset if it craps on anyone inappropriate during her ceremony. Be more creative, Agent Coulson, I know you can do it."

Coulson waved, laughing as he left, and Bruce smiled to himself, a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest as he wrapped up the donuts to take upstairs to his own love, his mind wandering on the subject a little more than usual. Well, if bad things came in threes, there was no reason why good things couldn't either...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next month is NaNoWriMo, I don't know if I will be doing 50k of an individual work, but I will be working on my usual monthly updates, and you should have a twoshot wedding special to join the series at some point next month. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, as usual, thank you for all the views, comments and kudos, much love to you all, and please keep reading!


	29. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Thor and Jane's two weddings, Clint has a little something he wants his big brother's advice on.

It was nice to be home, Bruce reflected to himself as he walked back into his quarters and looked around with a smile. Of course, the last ten days had been a wonderful experience, and it had been great to see Asgard, and to be a part of Thor and Jane finally getting married. He'd enjoyed the ceremony in New Mexico, and the one in Asgard actually. They'd both been very interesting, and he had been very impressed by how Steve had improvised when he had been given the unenviable task of officiating. It was hard enough to do something like that without a whole lot of training, but when you were doing it in front of the entire pantheon of another religion, then it was more than a little bit unnerving. 

He knew that Pepper had enjoyed the break too. Maybe she'd worked a little bit too hard all things considered, but you couldn't have everything and he was so proud of her. And they'd managed to get some time together away from the office and talk more. The hotel had been very well appointed in terms of relaxing and he'd made sure that they took full advantage of it together. It had been fun. A lot of fun. Still, there was no place like home. 

He had never really thought that it would mean so much to have a space like this, a constant that you could come back to. It really was nice. Not just to have Jarvis greeting them all, but to see his furniture and his things and know that when he closed the door this was his space and there wouldn't be any demands on it... he could take his time to unwind a little, that would be good, and then... well, then Clint had asked if he could come by to talk later that afternoon. Bruce had been happy to agree. He treasured any opportunity to spend time with his brother and he had a fair idea what Clint wanted to talk about. 

It had been fantastic to see Phil finally come clean and ask Clint to marry him. It hadn't exactly been a foregone conclusion, but Bruce, Tony and Natasha had had an unofficial pool going on when it would happen, because Phil was so obviously and completely smitten. Nobody thought Clint would propose. Marriage was the kind of thing that happened to people who... well, people who weren't Clint Barton, at least as far as Clint was concerned. He didn't get things like that. He didn't get the happy ending and the white picket fence, and he didn't deserve them and wouldn't want them anyway because it was so much easier to tell yourself that you didn't want something than it was to accept that it was something you would never have the chance of achieving. 

The problem was - though it wasn't really a problem for anyone other than Clint - that Phil Coulson had never got the memo that Clint Barton didn't deserve nice things. The fact that he had finally gotten over himself and his nerves that said he wasn't good enough for Clint and proposed meant that Clint now had to face up to everything he'd been denying for years. Things like that didn't happen overnight, but Bruce was looking forward to a quiet drink with his brother just as much as he was looking forward to a good night's sleep in his own bed when this was all over. 

He unpacked his bag and put the kettle on, smiling at the familiar sound of Jarvis clearing his throat and the little clanging in the vents which meant that Clint had decided to arrive by his usual route. 

Bruce set out a plate of cookies and poured the tea, smiling when his brother appeared on the sofa next to him and pulling him into a hug which Clint gladly returned. 

"Hey..."

"Hey! It's... thanks for letting me drop by."

Bruce smiled, pushing the jewel-purple glass over to Clint, and shrugged. 

"It's always a pleasure to see you. I really like spending time with you, I'm only sorry we don't get the chance to do it more often."

"It's fine it's... it can be hard. But maybe we should build a blanket fort again some time soon?"

"Yes. Definitely. We need to do that." 

Bruce smiled warmly, taking a deep breath of the steam which rose from the glass he had in his lap, cradled in both hands.

"So... was there something in particular you wanted to talk about or not so much?"

"Um..." Clint shifted awkwardly and shrugged, taking a drink to play for time, "Does there need to be?"

"No, there doesn't need to be. Like I said, I always enjoy spending time with you and it's a pleasure to see you. I just wanted you to know that if there was, I'm happy to listen."

"Phil proposed."

Bruce resisted the urge to point out that there were least three hundred people on two different planets who had seen Phil Coulson propose. 

"Oh yeah?" He took another sip, playing the innocent and leaving the silence to poke Clint into speaking. 

"...Yeah and I..."

"Did you say yes?"

"Well of course I said yes. What kind of a fucking idiot would I have to be to say no?! He's the best thing that ever happened to me! Well, the best thing other than finding you again, obviously." He amended lamely, and Bruce smiled.

"Except that if he hadn't 'happened' to you, then you would never have found me again, so let's be happy, hmm?"

"Yeah..." Clint smiled a little more, "Yeah, that's true."

"So... how do you feel about it?"

"I feel happy!" Clint replied indignantly, and Bruce fixed him with a raised eyebrow. 

"Okay I... I'm happy, I'm just also... really scared. I don't know how to process this. And I haven't had to up until this point because Thor and Jane's stuff... well, it distracted from it nicely and it meant I didn't have to think, and not thinking was good. Not thinking meant that I didn't have to have the freak out that I'm having now about the fact that Phil wants to marry me and I'm going to fuck the whole thing up."

"You might not fuck it up?" Bruce suggested with a gentle smile and Clint scoffed. 

"Of course I'm gonna fuck it up. Seriously, Phil could do so much better than me...he's always... I love him so much but I've spent so long wondering when he's going to realise, when he's going to come to his senses and realise that he could do so much better than me. Because he could, Bruce. He really could."

"He makes you happy?"

"He makes me so happy. I don't know how to be this happy. I've been with him for so long but I'm still... scared to take it for granted, you know? I mean, I thought I'd lost him once already and... well, you saw."

"Clint..." Bruce hesitated, unsure how to explain this without sounding like he wasn't taking Clint seriously, "Phil loves you. He has been head over heels in love with you for years. It was the first thing I noticed when I saw the two of you together. When he was conscious," Bruce amended conscientiously, "And I... don't think you quite understand that he really does love you as much as you love him. He thinks you are amazing, and he's right about that. He's proud of you. He fights for you. He indulges you and he... he's been with you for a long time now and he still lights up when you walk into the room. Or when you take your shirt off. Which, I may add, is a very awkward thing to notice about your brother."

Clint grinned slightly and shrugged, almost preening, though he still looked a little lost and vulnerable.

"I know that you spent so long hearing only the bad things about yourself and that this whole set up feels so much like a dream that you almost want to pinch yourself every morning. I know I do, because I never thought I'd have this for so much of my life, and then all my dreams came true at once and I got you back and it's all... I don't want to take it for granted either in case it all gets snatched away. But don't let not taking it for granted stop you from living every moment of it to the full because that's the opposite of what it means."

"Phil proposed to you because he knows that even now you still don't think this is real. You still don't think this is concrete and lasting and... he wants to be with you forever and make that promise, because it's the kind of thing that you think you're not worth. You don't think you're worth committing to but he thinks you are and he made that promise to you. Not only did he make that promise but he made it in front of an audience so he can't back out or tell you he changed his mind. He wanted to make it clear it was for real, and I don't doubt for a second that he means it."

Clint swallowed, and his hands were shaking a little around the glass which he set gently back on the table. 

When he looked at Bruce again there were tears glittering slightly in his eyes. 

"So... I did the right thing?"

"Yes, you did the right thing." 

Bruce squeezed his hands, then, deciding that wasn't enough, he pulled Clint into a hug. 

"Alright... yeah... okay..." Clint's voice was a little rough now, and he cleared his throat, shaking his head for a moment and taking a deep breath. His smile was a little shaky, but it was real and there in his eyes as he pulled back from the embrace and gave a little, awkward shrug.

"So... 'll you be my best man then?"

Bruce smiled, and it was bright enough to light the room as he nodded, squeezing Clint's hand again.

"Yes. Yes Clint, I will."

Clint's smile in return was dazzling, and they finished their tea together, curled up on the sofa while Clint told stories about how his and Phil's relationship had gone over the years and Bruce laughed simply for joy at finally seeing his brother so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the wedding fic is written, and it will be posted as soon as possible! It... I accidentally over twenty thousand words. So the beta'ing is taking a little while considering that my regular beta, wonderful as she is, is also doing Nano and so this month wasn't the best time for a task of that magnitude. For what it's worth, I promise it's worth the wait?! And I hope that this little piece of cuteness brightens up the winter a little for you all :)


	30. Dummy

There was snow falling outside the window in flurries which twisted and danced on the winds this high up. It wasn't too hard, and given some of the winters which New York had experienced in recent years, Bruce was glad of that. It was much more manageable like this, and he quite liked it. Clint was the hugest fan of snow in the tower though, and once it had stopped, or maybe even before it stopped, he would be out throwing snowballs at other unsuspecting people. Bruce preferred to watch that from somewhere inside and warm with Pepper, keeping score.

He remembered much earlier in the year when they had been having fun in the snow come February too. Clint had been very indignant to find that Bucky was even better than he was at snow wars. It came of the eerie ex-Soviet ability to move in absolute silence. Since then they had decreed that Natasha and Bucky were never ever allowed to be on the same team. Ever.

Still. For now it was his time to settle down, and everyone else seemed far too busy to drop by this afternoon so he could reasonably expect to have some time on his own. Since he was willing to take a chance on privacy, he had foregone his usual cup of tea and instead made a cup of rich, creamy hot chocolate. It had been one of his presents last Christmas, and he rarely had occasion to drink it. Tonight of all nights, it felt right, though.

He thought over everything that had happened in the past year. His time was his own until someone alerted him that everyone was gathered upstairs for dinner and present exchanging, and he let his mind rove.

Bucky had joined the team officially this time last year, and he had come so far... Thor and Jane had gotten married, Clint and Phil had finally gotten engaged... Darcy and Natasha were still happy together and he and Pepper were... well. He felt a surge of warmth at the thought of Pepper. They had been talking about getting married too, but the time didn't feel right just yet. There was a lot going on, and Clint and Phil's wedding would come first and give them a chance to think about whether this was what they wanted or not. For his part, Bruce was under no illusion that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Pepper. He knew that it wouldn't be possible because she would die long before thanks to the modification, but all the time they could have together he wanted to spend with her.

He sipped his hot chocolate, smiling slightly as the melted marshmallow attempted to leave him with a moustache. He licked it off.

It wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things since he had been so lost, wandering and homeless in so many different countries. The thought of having a home like this still gave him butterflies, and the team was his family more than anything else. It was much easier for them to be family. They certainly still fought sometimes but there was no doubt that the love would always be there no matter what. He was grateful for that.

He was stirred from his reverie by the sound of a knocking on his door. He blinked, and glanced at the clock. Well, evidently it was time... he set the empty mug down and went to investigate.

He pulled open the door and absolutely beamed. Dummy whirred, tilting his head and clacking his claw at him. Bruce laughed as the santa hat slipped to the floor and rescued it, putting it firmly back on Dummy's head and giving him a little scritch.

"They sent you to get me, huh?"

"Whirr!"

"Is everyone there already?"

"Whirr!"

"Just me then?"

"Whirr."

"Pepper off work yet?"

"Whirr whirr."

Bruce followed him through the dimly lit corridors to the communal living room, which had a crackling holographic fire complete with the scent of burning wood, and candles set strategically around the place so nobody (Clint or Tony) would set themselves on fire.

Everyone was draped around on the sofas, Jane was half asleep curled up in Thor's lap and Pepper beamed to see him, patting the space next to her.

Bruce crossed to it with a smile and settled in with a gentle kiss.

The tree was massive and decorated in the most garish mixture of decorations possible. Clint had loved it. There was tinsel all around the walls, and the table was heaving with a real feast. It was Christmas. And Christmas was a time for family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter, but you got a bonus 30k last month! See you in the new year, happy new year, happy holidays etc etc and love to you all, my wonderful readers :)


	31. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes through periods where itneracting with people is hard and he finds himself withdrawing inside his own head. Unfortunately that's one of the worst places for him to be. Fortunately these days there are people on his side to be there when he feels more alone than anything else.

It was the new year, and things were finally starting to calm down a little after the excitement of the wedding. The honeymoon was over, and Jane had moved into the tower with the rest of them and set up the lab space she needed. She seemed to be spending a lot of time in closeted talks with Tony about what was probably going to turn out to be some new satellite. It was a good opportunity for Tony to get into the interstellar business anyway, though apparently he was also in talks with SHIELD about it because they were starting to get weird about the amount of crap that was floating around in space. 

Bruce was treating himself to a cup of sweeter black tea with pieces of quince in it. It was fragrant and it never failed to make him smile and feel like he was being a little bit indulgent. Pepper liked it too and, if anything, that made it feel like even more of a treat. He couldn't remember the exact name off the top of his head, but he knew it was something about an emperor. As far as he was concerned that made it even more fitting for Pepper to be drinking. She deserved special things. 

There was a knock at the door (which automatically ruled out Clint), and it was too quiet to have been Steve. Hesitant too, so probably not Natasha unless she was having a really bad day... leaving his glass on the table, Bruce crossed the room to open the door with a reassuring smile. 

"Hey Bruce..."

"Hey Tony, I just made some tea, would you like some?"

"...Yeah. Yeah that sounds great, thanks."

"Please, come in..."

Bruce stepped back, inviting him in, making it clear that the invitation was meant and was sincere. He could recognise Tony in a mood like this and knew that if he was not perfectly clear about things then Tony was likely to misunderstand them or, more accurately, misconstrue them. It was never easy to see Tony when he was quite so wired, but Bruce hoped he could talk him down nonetheless. 

"Take a seat, the couch is comfy, I promise..." Bruce smiled, and busied himself with the teapot, watching out of the corner of his eye as Tony sat awkwardly down, perching until he gave into the overwhelming imperative of the cushions and the slightly collapsed springs and just sank into the embrace of the sofa.

"...You know if this thing eats people I'm not sure I'm insured for that."

"You're insured against pretty much everything, I thought?"

"Surprisingly not. Insurance companies get weird when you have a demigod who has lightning powers and an enormous green rage monster living under your roof. Besides, I don't exactly have the best reputaiton and while they could probably screw me in premiums I think they're too worried about what they'd have to pay out."

Bruce shrugged, an amused smile dancing on his lips as he passed Tony the ruby red glass, the contents a dark amber within. 

"Careful, it's still hot."

"Doc, you know I have like no nerve endings left in my fingertips now right? You know that? I'm an engineer. I have been an engineer my entire life and when I was younger adult supervision and health and safety were not concepts that troubled my tiny little mind-"

Bruce snorted into his tea. 

"Like they are now..." he muttered, and grinned at the glare Tony shot his way. 

"I have soldered and played with hot metal and cold metal and acid and liquid nitrogen and I have done so many things to my hands that to be honest it's a miracle they still function as they do, and I'm grateful that I have not yet lost fine motor control in them because that would leave fiddly things in Dummy's hands and I think we both know how well that would go. However, that doesn't change the fact that sensation in my finger tips is something that eludes me. Besides, you have lab hands, you know how it goes."

"Science does have a way of giving one asbestos fingers, it's true." Bruce agreed with a smile. 

"She is a cruel mistress..."

Tony was smiling too now, and he toasted Bruce with the tea before taking a sip.

"Mmm.... it is hot, fortunately a lack of qualms about coffee means that I'm fairly sure my throat is also asbestos lined."

"A lack of qualms about coffee is also part of the reason why you don't have a gag reflex, though you don't go around telling people that."

Tony winked.

"Ah, but it's only /part/ of the reason."

Bruce rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing into his tea while Tony's eyes danced. 

He took a moment to stretch and sip his drink before he turned his attention back to the engineer with more deliberation, scanning him. 

"So... is there any particular reason you're here? Or was it just a social call?"

"Well I figured you obviously couldn't get enough of me in the lab, so I thought I'd grace you with my presence here too."

Bruce scanned him up and down, looking for crack in the playful facade. He was one of the few people who knew Tony well enough to see them, and it helped that he cared enough to look. Rhodey spent a lot of time in the field and Pepper was run off her feet enough. It was one of the unspoken arrangements of their relationship that Tony care was almost but not quite on the same par as child care. She loved him like a little brother and he was the best friend Bruce had ever had, so they worked together to look after him because it was something that was far easier for Bruce to do than Pepper, unless it was really crisis time. 

Tony's bright smile reached his eyes, but it was banked there, and the crinkles in the corners were a little too forced. Under Bruce's scrutiny the act faded a little and he shrugged with a sigh.

"Just been feeling a little down, that's all. Didn't really... know what to say. Don't think it's anything major but I thought I'd... do the responsible and mature thing and not just pretend I was fine, and drink and or engineer myself into a numb stupor hoping it would fade away. Mainly because Steve gets really fucking upset with me when I do that and not making Captain America cry is practically a condition of citizenship (and while they probably wouldn't revoke that because I pay taxes and god knows the economy needs me right now it's still a shitty thing to do) and because... you know, you and Pepper are always preaching about doing the mature and responsible thing, and Agent's lectures to Hawkbutt tend to get passed on so I feel lectured by association and... yeah, well, it's just a bit suckish. So here's me being mature and responsible. Very out of character, I know."

Bruce couldn't fight the smile that pulled gently at the corners of his own mouth, and he didn't. It was gentle, designed to put Tony at his ease rather than make him feel mocked or disrespected. Something like this was a big sign of progress and needed to be encouraged. 

"It's not as out of character as you think it is, Tony. I don't think you do that bad of a job overall, and certainly not as bad as you seem to think it is. So don't worry about that."

He sipped his tea, keeping things light and casual. This was not a doctor's appointment, this was about two friends talking and he needed to make sure that they didn't lose that mood or else Tony would probably spook. He was getting better at dealing with touchy feely stuff but he still wasn't great and if he didn't feel ready to go to Steve about this (which Bruce understood) then the least he could do was maintain this as a safe space.

"Thanks for telling me though, you know, we all care about you and worry about you. I know that might not feel like something you can believe right now - you had a lot of years of the opposite - but it's true. And it's not unusual to have these periods of feeling low. Telling someone is the right thing to do. We want to help but we can't help if you don't tell us. It takes a lot of courage but if there's one thing you've proved again and again Tony, it's that you're brave."

The smile was fragile, but it was real this time and Bruce was glad to see it. 

"Hey Doc you...ah... you think I could stick around in here this afternoon? I mean I get if you're busy or whatever but... maybe we could talk some science? Plan some stuff?"

Bruce smiled in return and finished his tea.

"I think that sounds like a great idea. I enjoy brainstorming with you. Even if sometimes I worry that the consequences might give my girlfriend a splitting headache."

Tony looked more comfortable now, and his shrug was easy as he stretched back and crossed his feet on the coffee table, noticeably at home.

"Yeah, well... let's be honest, it's totally worth it."

"Totally." Bruce grinned wickedly, "Sometimes she lets me help with it."

He descended into laughter as Tony smacked him in the face with a pillow.

"Not cool Banner, decidedly not cool, you can't date my sister and make comments like that!"

"I just did."

"Oh yeah, well, we'll see about that..."

The sun descended outside the window without them noticing as they exchanged occasional friendly blows, cushioned missiles, and ideas at the forefront of sceintific possibility. It was a good way to spend an afternoon, and by the end of it Tony felt much less alone. He knew that the sadness wasn't gone, that it would take time to get through this patch, but being reminded that he was human after so many hours in the contact of machines was relief enough for now.

He looked out the window, realising that they were sat in the dark now, and giggled slightly.

"Oh... so much for not taking up much of your time..."

Bruce slugged him gently on the shoulder with a grin and shrugged, stretching.

"Hey, I think Clint was making chilli tonight, and Bucky was going to make cornbread... feel up to joining us?"

"For a meal like that? Hell yes. I'm not passing up super soldier cornbread."

"Well, you never know, after you've eaten it you may change your mind."

"Ah yes doctor, but I've always lived by the maxim that I'll try anything once."

Tony grinned and headed for the door while Bruce followed behind, shaking his head and calling,

"You know, that explains a lot!"

While Tony just laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year guys! Thanks for sticking with me this long - the fic is now officially two years old! Only a couple of months younger than my relationship. Anyway. I know this isn't the most upbeat start to the year but when it's still cold and dark and summer feels a long way off, it's possible to get sucked into the darker side of thoughts. I'm not in any way trying to make light of depression here but one of the most important things I have learned is to talk about it. There's no magic bullet, no switch you can flick to make it go away, but a good support system and good friends are one of the best defences you can have. And there are always people out there who will listen to you.


	32. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is adjusting pretty well in the tower, after everything he's been through. He's found a few new hobbies, but some are more physically demanding than others, and there's nothing more well received than a tea break.

This time the knocking on his door was firm, confident but unhurried, and Bruce crossed to the door with a little smile on his face, curious as to who it might be. It was too hard to be Pepper, and Steve wasn't quite as certain that he would be welcome, even now. It was something about being a small person who became suddenly large - he was a bit unsure of his size, like a dog, and very self conscious about whether or not he was an inconvenience or likely to be getting in the way. 

He opened the door to find Bucky, leaning easily on the frame with his hair back in a low ponytail, a small smile playing on his lips, and lightly covered in a dusting of something that looked like very fine white powder. 

"...Hello..."

"Hey Doc, mind if I come in? I could do with a tea break..."

"Oh? Please do come in..." 

Bruce meandered back in the direction of the kettle, shooting a glance up at the super soldier from where he was fiddling with it. 

"Decorating's thirsty work?"

"You're decorating?"

"Yeah... I know... I know Tony made our rooms all nice and stuff but when I came in I wasn't really in a place to appreciate it or give good instructions. I've kind of had more of a chance to think about what I like, what I want from it, who I am... probably doesn't sound like much but I've done a lot of growing in the time since I've been here, and... I felt like I had enough of an identity to stamp it on the space that was mine. I know that Tony could have gotten some contractors in at a moment's notice but I've always been good with my hands and I kind of wanted to do it myself. Reclaiming space, reclaiming... an identity, I guess. I knew how to do a fair bit, or the basics, at least, but Jarvis has been looking up tutorials online for me to follow to do the rest and it's actually going pretty good right now."

"Oh yeah?" Bruce started sorting through his teabags, "What is?"

"Mainly just painting. I'm not doing any dramatic remodelling. Just smoothing out some of the... damage I made on the bad nights when I first came, and painting mainly. I've been picking out new furniture. There's some stuff coming later this week. I took up the carpet and refinished the floor, bought new linens and stuff... it's... it's nice to be able to lose myself in that kind of work, in doing something constructive, in making rather than destroying after all those years when all I dealt in was death. It also gets me out of the house, which I hear is a good thing. But don't tell Steve or he'll try to get me to go running with him and really I've had enough of the whole early mornings thing. I was never that much of a morning person and that level of cheerfulness before sunrise is just obscene."

Bruce chuckled softly, pouring the water onto the leaves to steep. 

"I... must confess that if I'm ever up that early it's by accident rather than by design. I get caught up in things sometimes. I don't think I've ever encountered him when he goes out for his run, but I can imagine."

"Some people are happy for whatever they can get, and that has always been Steve because he had so little that he had to be happy for it. I mean, I didn't have that much either and I was always glad for what I had but I was also striving for better. And I think... I think after what... was done to me, I think I'm owed a little more than I've historically had. That's all. That and he was always a chronically early riser and I think the army actually made that worse. I don't know if it was because he was deprived of sleep as a child or something but man, he just lives for it, says the early air feels cleaner or something. Which I don't think is right, because logically the plants have had no light overnight, right? So they've been respiring instead of photosynthesising, so they're giving off carbon dioxide not oxygen, so if you go running early in the morning in the park, the carbon dioxide concentration is higher than it will be later in the day. That's science, right?"

Bruce genuinely laughed as he set the glasses down on the table in front of Bucky. It was so good to hear the man talk, to get these flashes of Steve's old friend and to hear him becoming so much more of a person than he had been when he'd arrived. 

"...I'm not entirely sure that's how it works, but I have to say I'm impressed by your understanding."

"Oh, I always loved science. Like, I don't understand how I got the reputation as the troublemaker. I guess it was because Steve is Captain America and he cheated his way into the army because he didn't like bullies and blah blah blah and you can't get better than Captain America, right? Except he was always the one starting back alley brawls and I was the one who went to science fairs on dates."

"History doesn't always paint things with complete accuracy." Bruce fought to say with a straight face.

"Damn right it doesn't..." Bucky sighed, and swirled his glass, watching the liquid within. A slight smile rested on his lips as he took a sip.

"Mmmn... that's delicious, what is it?"

"White tea with peppermint. It's not quite as full on as pure peppermint, it's nice and gentle but still... refreshing?"

"It's perfect for me right now."

"Right, the hard working man... I hope you're not inhaling too many paint fumes, though I guess the enhancements might take care of those."

"I doubt they're the most toxic things I've inhaled over the years, but I appreciate your concern as the closest I have to a doctor."

"Hey, no closest you have, I am your doctor!"

"Unofficially."

"Fine, in practice if not in theory."

Bucky grinned, and Bruce rolled his eyes slightly. he'd seen an almost identical sile on Steve's face enough times and he could quite easily see how the two of them might have caused no end of trouble when they were younger. 

"That's the spirit Doc... and yeah, just... stripped back the paper, filled in some holes... repapered, painted, installed and stained some new trim. Like I said the new carpet's coming. And I kinda installed a window seat. Since it's one of the few places in the tower that doesn't have floor to ceiling glass on one wall."

"I thought every room had floor to ceiling glass on one wall?"

"Well, it did. But like I said, I installed a window seat. Also a couple of built in bookshelves. So there's a bookshelf at each end, with the window seat in the middle. It's like a long bench so I still get most of the light, but it feels much more like a private room and a space I can control rather than an enclosure in a zoo. I spent enough of my life being gawped at, and I know that the glass goes one way and I know that I could do anything I wanted without people being able to see in but... well. It didn't feel right to me. I feel a lot more comfortable now. I also went down to the flea markets and the antiques markets, got myself a nice solid wooden desk. It needed a little work but that wasn't too hard to restore, and I asked Steve if I could have some sketches for the walls. Not changing the bed though, the bed's great. Amazingly comfortable. I mean, it's hard for a soldier to get used to a comfortable bed. I know Steve still struggles with that a lot, even when you're bone tired it's impossible to relax because it feels too soft, but... well, we cope. And I gotta say it's like heaven on these old bones sometimes."

"You're not the only one with old bones."

"No, but these old bones have done a lot more than Steve's have, seen a lot more wear and tear with little reverence and not much holding them together beyond spit, a prayer and the serum. I ache some nights. Doesn't even have to be a cold one. Some times I just ache. I don't know what Tony spent on that damn bed but that mattress... it's got like built in massage controls or something, and there are parts of it that can heat up... Iw ould never have bought a bed like that for myself, never have picked it, wouldn't have even known it existed let alone been able to wrap my head around the idea of it being something that I needed, something that could help me. Way I see it a normal bed is good enough for everyone else, it's good enough for me, but that's not how Tony thinks. He... the way he looks at problems, I don't think I've ever met anyone else in the world who looks at problems the way he does. He analyses everything, even stuff that's not in his field, and works out what the fundamental issue is and what's needed as a solution and then he finds that solution and he does research and if it's not perfect he makes it perfect, and if there isn't a solution he makes one, no matter what research he has to do to get there. And he'll throw money at problems, not because he thinks expensive equals better but because he thinks that people deserve quality and quality lasts longer and all these reasons that I never had to justify because I never had the means."

"He does have a unique approach to things but... I have to say I think he's all the more perfect for that."

"I agree, completely," Bucky's face was oddly solemn as he met Bruce's eyes, "No, really, I do. I think he's an amazing man. I mean, I can't wrap my head around being lucky enough to be a friend of a guy like that. And don't get me wrong, I am his friend, I'm not in it for the money, but Tony... Tony takes care of his friends, real care, and I don't think people see that. I think when they're out to use him maybe he didn't always make it hard, but I think peopel who thought in the short term like that... they lost out. I've come to know and love everyone in this tower for who they are on their own terms because they have accepted me when I haven't even been sure of my name let alone what the terms I want to live my life on are. I think everyone here is amazing and it's a damn privilege to be here, but Tony... Tony's the one who always takes you by surprise. Just when you think you've got the measure of him and know how he thinks and what he's going to do... he goes and blows your expectations out of the water in the best possible way because he can't do mundane or details or personal stuff but he noticed and he reads and he thinks and he sees the world in lateral, logical ways which nobody else does, and it's incredible."

"I take it you're okay with him dating Steve then?"

"Yeah, I am," Bucky sipped his tea, "I really am. I wasn't at first, for reasons we've discussed, but... Tony isn't Howard, and I did him a disservice when I assumed those things. And... there was baggage, but every day I live here I'm happier that Steve ended up with him. I really am. It means that I don't have to spend all my time wondering what the big idiot is going to get up to next because there's somebody else watching his back who will at least have made sure that he's going out with top quality equipment. And after all the headaches Steve has caused me, that's something."

"We're still working on the parachute thing." Bruce replied, deadpan, and Bucky facepalmed, gesturing dismissively.

"No- don't. Don't even. Please. I can't."

"He just... doesn't seem to want to learn."

"It's because he thinks he can bounce, people who can fly keep catching him, and the asshole never really valued his own life anyway. He valued what it could mean to other people, and on one hand that's a very noble way to live, on the other hand, it's a shitty way to be a friend. I had hoped that he would have given some more thought to it after... well, after the various things that have happened, and I think maybe he's starting to understand because I think Tony's called him out on being a hypocrite a few times. Which, I have to admit, I find hilarious coming from Tony. But Steve... I don't know. I can't think like that. I never really could. I was the one with younger siblings I had to protect, and that meant that I couldn't always stand and fight. I had to make judicious use of running away because if I died or got crippled then there was nobody to keep them safe, nobody to watch over Steve, or my Mom, or anything like that. I had to learn. I had to learn that side of leadership in the war, I had to make those calls and I couldn't just... throw everything at a full frontal assault when I knew that by leaving this fight we'd be able to make another one and maybe that one would count where this one didn't. He wasn't around long enough to learn those lessons and I think that... that makes it hard, sometimes, for us to communicate."

"I don't know, I think you're the voice of reason for him sometimes."

Bucky smiled a little then, it was tinged with sadness but still warm and alive. 

"...Yeah well... he always used to say I'd take the stupid with me, but if you ask me he kept the whole damn lot to himself. He was great at sharing the good stuff, not so much the bad. He threw himself on a grenade in training at Lehigh. It was a dummy but still. I smacked him one when Peggy told me that story. He doesn't get that he has value just... because of who he is. That... people can enhance their value, sure, do more stuff, whatever, but people are valuable because they're people and nothing happens that takes away from that. That's what the Nazis thought, but it was... it doesn't work that way."

"You're a very philosophical man, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, I had a lot of time to think, even if it wasn't always in my own head. These things have a way of coming out over time. I couldn't disobey but they couldn't... they couldn't see what was inside my head like that. They couldn't. And so... I guess I worked a lot of things out without realising. Truths of the universe. Or at least, of my universe. Pretty narrow place. But hey..." he shrugged, and sipped his tea, glancing up, "Can we change the subject? Not that I mind, I'd just... like a happier topic of conversation. That kind of talk has a time and a place and in the middle of choosing colours isn't it."

"So what's the colour scheme you've settled on?"

"I like green, so... there's a fair amount of green. A kind of jade, I guess? It's on two walls. One wall is window, and the other wall is a kind of cream... not like a really yellow-y one, but it's not stark white or something like that. It's too... clinical for me to react well to when I wake up on the bad nights, and that's the wall opposite my bed, so. I went for a kind of golden carpet. The trim's like... mahogany, I guess? So it'd be dark without the windows and that wall I left light. Got the desk on that side, door to the bathroom... and everything else... it's just kind of falling into place. Everything's neat and tidy, but it's not cold. It's a living... space. And I'll probably move on and do the bathroom when I'm done because that place feels like a hotel and I need something a little more welcoming with the amount of time I spend in the shower."

"You like long showers too, huh?"

Bucky shrugged.

"Training with Steve, training with Natasha, running in the mornings.... nightmares about being put on ice, nightmares about smoke and ash, nightmares about blood being everywhere... between all those things, a shower does me a lot of good."

"I can imagine. I think most people in this place enjoy their showers."

"We're lucky we're in a place to. I don't think it's something most people would consider, but..."

"Well, Tony had issues with them for a while, but they're a good way to warm up if you're cold and I know... for you and Steve, that's important. Probably Natasha too but I'd never ask her. It's not just about being clean it's also about being warm and sometimes those things go hand in hand but sometimes they don't."

"Yeah..." Bucky sighed and drained his glass, "True enough, Doc. But hey, if you ever want a remodel in here or have anything that needs fixing, let me know. Supplies come out of your pocket, labour's free to friends as a gesture of good will, and because between this and.... between this and writing, I think I've found my therapy. Maybe in time they'll get me to a place where real therapy will be able to do something but I don't know if I'll ever reach that place and I'm okay with that. I'm functional now and I have friends and a role and a purpose. I'm not just freeloading. So if I never... sit down and try to talk through what I did and work through it, decades of torture and murder and pain.... then that's okay, because I'm okay. It might be as okay as I'll ever be but I'm happy with that. And that's what matters."

Bruce nodded, finishing his own tea and setting the glass down, holding out a hand to shake Bucky's before the man stood to go. 

"Thank you for coming. You're always welcome. Next time let me know when you're having a long day of work and I'll bake something to boost your blood sugar."

"Thanks Doc, you make the best stuff sometimes, you know?"

Bruce smiled, walking Bucky to the door. 

"Thank you, I try. Maybe we can swap recipes some time?"

"I'd like that..." Bucky nodded, dark eyes dancing behind the messy strands of hair that had escaped his ponytail and hung in his face, "I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally the February chapter of Tea for Two because February isn't a real month anyway, it is 2-3 days shorter than any other month, so today is the 30th of February and this update is definitely on time :p
> 
> Plus I had two big academic deadlines which I made, but they kind of took away from the time I had available to write this, so here, I hope you enjoy and please forgive me being a little late ;) (don't tell anyone!)


	33. Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all anyone needs is a quiet night.

Bruce hadn't realised quite how late it was when he finally sank down into the comforting embrace of his sofa, breathing in the sweet scent of pomegranate as he sipped his tea. Daylight Savings Time had a way of throwing off a routine like that, even if the change was only an hour. Suddenly it was later and the sun was still in the sky... he smiled slightly. It alsways gave him a little bit of hope after the dark and cold of winter when things started to brighten up, even if brightening up didn't necessarily mean warming up. 

He would have liked winter more if it meant that the supervillains of the universe had a quiet season, but alas, they just seemed to get more creative. He took another sip of tea and idly wondered whether there would be any point in mining the data on supervillain attacks to see if there was a seasonal theme. It was probably unlikely, but if there was any chance of being able to predict attacks... he filed the thought away as a project for another day and watched the sun sink lower in the sky. 

He didn't even start as delicate hands settled on his shoulders, and instead tilted his head back for a kiss, smiling as Pepper leant down to oblige. 

"Hello beautiful... so work finished early today?"

"Yes. For once. I don't know what happened in the last meeting but people seemed oddly agreeable. I'm going to attempt to be optimistic and assume that it's not a sign of an impending coup. Our quarterly results are actually looking pretty healthy, which is impressive considering everything Tony's done to make them the opposite."

"That's a little unfair..."

She was smiling a little as she walked around to curl up next to him on the battered couch. 

"Maybe, but can you blame me if I'm a little bitter after years of it feeling like he was trying to sabotage things like that?"

"No..." he leant in and kissed her softly, gently tapping her nose with the tip of his finger, "But you have to admit that the arguable biggest act of sabotage he committed on that front actually worked out pretty well for everyone."

"That's the problem," her nose wrinkled, but she was smiling, "When Tony tries to do good things, he's a pain, but they make such a big difference you can't quite face discouraging him. I don't blame him for what happened to him, I don't blame him for what he did or the choices that followed, but I still would like it borne in mind by the courts that he has done more to drive me to drink than any other man in my life, including Obadiah Stane and the rest of the current board of directors."

"Duly noted," Bruce poured her a cup of tea from the pot steaming gently on the table in front of them, "But you still love him."

"I do..." she took the glass with a soft smile and a grateful sigh as she inhaled the calming scent, "God help me, and sometimes I don't know why, but I do. It might be Stockholm syndrome."

Bruce chuckled softly and shifted to tuck her to his chest, arm around her shoulders as he pressed another kiss to her hair. 

"Alright, so what do you want to do with this miraculously free evening?"

"Honestly? I just want a quiet time. I want... a dinner with you, and a long hot bath, maybe a massage if you wouldn't mind obliging me, and then passing out in front of a movie that requires precisely zero brain power until you give up and carry me to bed and then proceed to use fiendish snuggling tactics in an attempt to stop me leaving it in the morning."

"What?!" Bruce attempted an expression of mock horror which just made Pepper giggle, "I would never do such a thing! I don't know what you're-"

She kissed him again, soft, warm, with just a hint of the sweetness of the tea, and his protest was very effectively silenced as his hand shifted to gently rub the back of her neck, knowing that so often that was where the tension lingered. 

She groaned and he smiled, butting their heads together tenderly as her eyes closed. 

"Little bit tense, are we?"

"You know that's more or less how I live my life."

"I know, yes, that doesn't mean I have to like."

"You're good at learning to live with things you don't like."

"I would like you to know that Hulk is very hurt by that implication."

"I didn't mean Hulk..." she groused, and he smiled and kissed her again, fingers carding through strawberry blonde hair. 

"I know..." another kiss, "I know."

"Well if you know then don't make me think about it. It's mean to spring compulsory thoughts on me."

"Well I'm afraid I'm going to have to spring another one on you all the same," he was still smiling as he nuzzled her gently, "what do you want for dinner?"

It was sort of sad, in a way, that she was always so worn out that when she got the chance to stop and breathe for a moment it was like the exhaustion all came crashing down on her. She was very very adorable, but it was hard to see someone you loved struggling so much. He knew that she would never really change, that she loved the job and the responsibility even on the days when she cursed it, and that even if she did leave and decide to do something else with her life she was the kind of person who would magically rise to a managerial role because it was what she was good at. He wasn't sure that he would change her, for all of that. He had fallen in love with her, and he did love her, so, so much. And really, if she did something different, she wouldn't be Pepper. He did hope that eventually she might learn the fine art of delegating though, it was difficult when there was nobody responsible around to delegate to. 

"...Can we have something hugely calorific that I really shouldn't be eating?"

"What do you mean shouldn't be eating?"

"I just... well..."

"Pepper..." he shifted her back to look her in the eye, frowning slightly, "Why are you denying yourself things?"

"Because I need to not get fat and it's not worth it to just-"

"Eat what you want? Give your body the nutrients it needs to survive and carry you through things? Quite apart from anything else, your body does a lot for you and all it asks in return is that you try to show it a little love and care occasionally. You just have to feed and water it, and it keeps you going. Now I'm not saying that it's okay to eat ridiculous amounts of all the unhealthy things and none of the good stuff, but really you also have to attune your diet to the things you do. You are under a huge amount of stress, meaning that you are going to be burning more calories, also that you should do things that make you feel good including eating things that you like. You don't have to skip dessert if you want it because you think it's in the service of some higher power. The gods of the media do not get to dictate how you live, they don't get to control or jeopardise your health. Your health is the most important thing and that means listening to your body. You eat pretty well most of the time, and that means that you get to splurge every now and then without feeling guilty, it means that you get to treat yourself, it means that you don't have to subscribe to some stupid regimen to fit into a cookie cutter mold which imposes unhealthy and frankly ridiculous expectations on women."

Pepper's eyes were down and Bruce bit his lip, stopping short, wondering if he'd gone too far when he saw the tears beaded on her lashes. He opened his mouth to apologise, but she lunged forward and kissed the words away before he could say them, shaking her head and cuddling closer to him again.

"...Thank you. God, I know it's stupid but it's so hard. It's so hard all the time."

"I know..." he kissed the top of her head, nuzzling into her hair again and sighing softly, "I know it is. But I mean it. They don't get to make you ill. They don't. You have enough to deal with. And so yes, we can have something hugely calorific, and something delicious and something you like that makes you happy and you don't have to think of it as something that you shouldn't be having and you don't have to think of it as something to be guilty about. To be perfectly honest with you, the allure of the forbidden means it's probably a bad idea to think of it that way anyway. Just think of it as giving yourself what you deserve, practising a bit of self care, and concentrating on moderation in all things even if workload and stress levels are pipe dreams more than other things, okay?"

She closed her eyes and nodded, squeezing his hand, "Okay."

"How about a nice, mild, creamy curry? Does that sound good? I can make rice and naan bread with it..."

"...How mild is mild? I don't know if our perceptions of these things differ..."

"Mild, I promise," Bruce smiled, "I said mild and I do definitely mean it, just creamy and warm and lovely..."

"That sounds good..." Pepper yawned, "But doesn't that kind of thing tend to take a while?"

"Not necessarily, I have a recipe which takes about an hour for the marinading and cooking all at once, how does that sound?"

"I guess I could deal with an hour..." she nuzzled up closer again and sighed, "So does that mean that you have to get on with that?"

Bruce grinned and kissed her softly, 

"You go get the bath run, and get soaking. I'll get everything prepped and get the chicken marinading and when it's soaking and getting all lovely and flavoursome and tender, then I will come and join you for a bit and see if I can't do something about all those nasty knots in your back, how does that sound?"

Pepper's smile was satisfied now and it made Bruce chuckled softly as she leant in for one more brush of lips, one more moment of warm contact. 

"...That sounds good."

She levered herself off the sofa and headed for the bathroom, making no secret of unbuttoning her shirt and unzipping her skirt along the way.

Bruce watched her out of sight, a little heat creeping into his smile, his eyes appreciative. She was a very beautiful woman. She deserved to know that. 

He hummed softly to himself as he chopped chicken, garlic and ginger, setting it all to marinate with some lime juice, oil and chilli powder before he chopped the onion and chilli, setting them aside, and headed through to the bathroom, pausing to wash his hands thoroughly before he began undressng, making no secret of his admiration for Pepper as she lay in the bath, smiling up at him and looking considerably more at peace than she had for a while. 

"You're beautiful..."

"I know..."

He laughed softly and crouched by the bath to brush a kiss over the corner of her lips.

"I love you."

"I know..."

"So wait, does that make me Leaia?"

Pepper giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, puling him closer, urging him to get into the bath with her. 

They soaked for the next half an hour or so, and Bruce took every opportunity to work on the tension that was tying her in knots. 

He was more than a little reluctant to get out, but he did so first, wrapping himself in a towel and offering Pepper a hand, then a robe as she followed his example. He kissed her cheek chastely and left her to her own routine, pulling a soft pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt with a screen print of Hulk's face on it which Clint had gotten him as a joke several months ago. 

He set the chicken frying, getting the chilli and onion going in another pan and working on the bread dough. 

Pepper emerged about fifteen minutes later, in a pair of comfortable silk pyjamas and a flannel robe which was pure self indulgence. She never dressed casually, or at least, not often enough as far as Bruce was concerned, and he loved seeing her like this. 

He set two steaming bowls of creamy curry and rice on the table with a plate of fresh bread, and she smiled as she pulled up her chair. 

He poured a glass of white wine without a word, and her smile made his heart skip a beat. She never looked lovelier than when she smiled. 

"...So is this enough of a nice evening for you?"

"If you give me a bowl of ice cream, another glass of wine, and a crappy movie later on and let me fall asleep on you I might even go as far as to say it was perfect."

Bruce's eyes were bright as he matched her smile, warm and easy, toasting her with his own drink. 

"...I think I could do that, especially for a lady as lovely as yourself."

"I'm impressed that you still have the energy to flirt with me."

"Pepper, for you I would dredge up the energy to flirt even after a week of Hulk-outs."

"In that case I'm impressed you still have the lines to flirt with me."

"I work on it frequently and persistently."

His heated grin had turned impish now, and she laughed, a true, bubbling, beautiful sound, leaning in for one last kiss before she tucked into the food. 

It was a truly perfect evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was at least within the technical expanse of the month! Go me! Next month is Camp Nano so the update should be earlier and there will also be another exciting new fic from me with regular updates through the month (hopefully). I am now getting into crunch time for revision for my final final exams and writing my master's thesis, so thanks in advance for your understanding if there are delays because my stress levels are high as all hell right now.


	34. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how much you love someone, when there's a shift in your relationship it can be hard to adjust

Bruce was finally heading back from the lab, a little later than usual after he'd become absorbed in some of the computer modelling he was working on when he spotted Steve heading down the hall towards his room. The doctor smiled quietly to himself, letting it widen when Steve caught sight of him, evidently lost in his own thoughts.

"Oh! Hello Bruce, I was just..."

"Were you on your way to visit me?"

"...Maybe?"

It was adorable when Steve blushed. Even now he was a little bit like a naughty child and Bruce was fairly sure that the red flush went all the way up to the tips of his ears. He resisted the urge to ruffle Steve's hair and check. He was all for casual physical affection between team mates but he had a sneaking suspicion that Tony would appear out of nowhere and start causing a fuss just for the hell of it if he tried. Useful as it would be at times to have a magical Tony summoning technique, when Steve had been heading for his rooms with quiet determination was probably not the ideal time to try it out. 

"Well that's good, I like visitors."

He could see Steve relax, even now, even after he'd spent so many hours sitting on Bruce's sofa talking about so many different things (mainly Tony), he was still polite enough not to assume that he would be welcome every time. Bruce was glad that these days at least he seemed a lot more comfortable about it. There was a different feel to things when somebody truly believed they were welcome but didn't assume there would be time as opposed to when somebody lived their whole life feeling like an inconvenience to other people. He himself had taken a long time to get over the feeling like an inconvenience stage. 

Steve's smile in return was bright and real, and Bruce pushed open the door to his quarters easily, happy to know that Steve was following him. 

"You know... I hope it isn't weird to say this but I think this is one of my favourite places in the tower."

Bruce glanced back, and Steve was standing on his rug, looking around the room and admiring everything he had set up there. 

"Me too, I'm glad you like them though."

"It feels very... it feels like home. I mean, my rooms feel like home, this whole tower feels like home, but because you live here and you... this place feels like you, and you are a very calming person to be around."

"I'm sure there's some kind of irony there..."

"No, not really," and there was that devastating sincerity in those blue eyes again, "I mean, I know I've said it before but... well, you have to know that it's at least part of the reason why people keep coming to talk to you? Because we all... we all know we do it. And I'm sorry if we're treating you like a revolving door counselling service or anything because honestly you are just as important a member of the team as anyone else and I would hate for you to think otherwise because that would just be really sad but... no, we come to visit you because you don't... demand things. You just make tea and we get to sit here, and it's comfortable here. It's not too bright and it doesn't feel clinical and it isn't necessarily all coordinated perfectly but it's... it feels like you because you made this space yours and so... sorry, I'm not expressing this well."

Bruce chuckled and set the glasses out on the table, his eyes dancing.

"It's not your most coherent Captain, but I'll give you points for trying."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that people come to you because they trust you and because you make them feel safe. Coulson has this way about him where you feel like everything's going to be okay. And that's good. That helps a lot. But he only really has that about official matters and things like the aftermath of a mission when we're all worrying about what kind of hoops we're going to have to jump through to make nice with everyone after everything we inevitably break-"

Bruce winced slightly and Steve instantly looked guilty.

"No no no I mean all of us! All of us break things! And to be absolutely fair it is mainly the supervillains - I think the city should be billing them instead of muttering about trying to bill us, even if Tony can pay for it that's really not the point. We're risking our lives to save the people and infrastructure of the city, we shouldn't really have to pay for it as well. Blood, sweat and tears is what we pay in. As well as taxes. Which we also all pay."

"It's true, I'm fairly sure Stark Industries is one of the biggest companies that actually pays its fair share of the tax bill, and that happened under Tony. Pepper keeps it up but it was definitely him originally and that's something he should be proud of."

Steve beamed slightly and Bruce was fairly sure he was glowing with pride in his lover for a moment before he resumed where he had left off.

"But anyway, no, I man, Coulson has the air of calm competency that feels like he's going to fix everything and everything is going to be alright but you... you just feel safe and calm no matter what. And that's why even though SHIELD medical is available to all of us we come to you because none of us have the best relationship with medical personnel necessarily but you, we trust, and this place is a reflection of you and that means that it's just a really nice place to be."

Bruce was trying not to blush now as he set his box of teas down on the table and began sorting through them. 

"...Thank you, that's very... kind of you. It means a lot. And I know this place isn't necessarily the best but it makes me happy and I don't think I'll be redecorating any time soon. I mean, if I do, obviously there's an in house contractor who can take care of the work."

"Yeah I heard Bucky's been... doing more of that kind of thing. It's good. He had a couple of temp jobs doing that back in... in Brooklyn. It was kinda seasonal and there wasn't much of it because there wasn't much money around a lot of the time, obviously, but when there was work like that he always liked it. I'm glad he hasn't forgotten the skills, or at least, his body hasn't. It can be nice to make or create or build things when you usually destroy. It's one of the reasons I've held on to my art. When I was fighting, it helped. Helped when I was a dancing monkey too. I still have that picture. I drew it in France when I was... when they were still showing me off. Finished it the day Peggy told me I was meant for more than this. The day I found out Bucky was missing. The day I stopped being a performing monkey in a suit. And I've hated being one ever since, even when it's forced on me."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said softly in response, choosing not to draw attention to the hesitation when Steve talked about his friend, letting him steer the conversation, "I know you have to do a lot of PR stuff for us and I hadn't realised that it must suck quite so much for you..."

"No, no I... it's not that, not really. I mean, Tony does a lot of it and he's really good at it, but he hates it. Afterwards. It's like he feels dirty because he's been allowed to be more than that with us and he's getting used to being Tony most of the time instead of Tony Stark most of the time and that's great and I wouldn't change it but I think it makes it harder for him to switch on the charm like that when he has to. And I hate it but I'm safer than most other people. Tasha can do press conferences but not interviews because she doesn't deserve the crap they ask her and one of these days she might genuinely stab someone for it and I would whistle and look the other way. Clint drops crap in, Thor can do it but he confuses people, Bucky's under the radar and you-"

"I'm not the one that people really want to talk to." 

Bruce finished for him and Steve smiled lamely, shrugging.

"Sorry but no... and it's their loss but I would never make you do it. I'm glad your scientific profile is being raised a little more anyway, you deserve to be able to get back into that world. You're a genius and your work is important. Besides, I don't mind it so much these days, not for this team. It's not being a performing monkey. It's being a soldier, being a captain, doing my duty. It's not all I am, I'm not a mouthpiece, I'm just... protecting my team, sticking up for my team, and at the end of the day you're still my team and I still get to fight alongside you. I'm not... a dancing girl. I'm a soldier. And that's what means I don't struggle so much these days. I don't like it but I can tolerate it without feeling like a piece of crap. So I guess that makes it okay."

That made Bruce smile, and he nodded. 

"I think I understand... but thank you anyway Captain, it really does mean a lot to us all. Especially to me. I think I may have some left of those chocolate fudge cookies Clint made last time you were here if you want? Not the same batch, but a different one. Since the recipe works so well he was pretty keen on repeating it and I know you liked them quite a bit."

"Thank you, that's very kind..." Steve blushed a little and took one when Bruce offered the tin. 

"It's alright... Bucky and I are going to swap recipes at some point so I'll definitely let you know when that's happening and you can come and help do quality control in the kitchen?"

"Oh? That's... that's great, I might even join in!" Steve smiled, and Bruce laughed. 

"You know you would be more than welcome to join in. It would be really nice to have you. I didn't know you were that much of a cook?"

"No, well, I'm not. Buck always handled things when we were younger, for various reasons. Chief among them being that he could stand for prolonged periods of time and wasn't likely to faint because of the heat or accidentally set himself on fire. So basically it seemed safer to let him handle the hard stuff. I just got to sit there and look pretty. But I've tried to learn. I mean, in SHIELD's apartment I had to learn to cook for myself and I can get by here with no problems but I really do... well, the family dinners are much nicer and you and Clint do such good jobs of it and... when I made stuff I had to try to make new things because no matter what I did they never tasted like what Bucky used to make or what his mom used to make and somehow that made it worse."

Steve shrugged, looking down slightly rather than meeting Bruce's eyes.

"I'll bet... well why not come and learn them from the horse's mouth? That way you can finally find out what the fiendish secret ingredients are?"

Steve laughed hesitantly and reached for another cookie which Bruce gladly surrendered, 

"I think I will, Doc. I think I will."

"I look forward to it."

Bruce took a second cookie too and dipped it in his tea, careful to time it just right so he could eat it without it crumbling everywhere. 

"These are good. I hope I can get the recipe off Clint but I think he likes to hold onto things a bit more, especially when it comes to stuff like this because... well, it means that he gets to stay useful if he's the only one who can do it."

"Yeah, I know how that goes..."

Bruce shrugged, "I think we all do. I mean, I seem to be pretty irreplaceable since I am the one trusted medical professional for some of SHIELD's top agents who make other medical staff cry when they approach, and I have become the unofficial team counsellor. So you need to keep me around for all of those reasons. As well as my curries, which if they aren't legendary already, possibly should be if we're honest."

"I agree. I'd love to learn to make one of those from scratch. Maybe you could teach me and Buck one day? I bet he'd like to learn too, he loves complicated stuff like that, things with lots of steps and processes because they take time and you can lose yourself in just doing and not thinking for a while. I think it helps get him out of his head a little. Maybe that's why he's started decorating again."

"Maybe... it would make a lot of sense, as well as being able to put things to rights."

"He always did that too..." This time Steve's smile was a little wistful, and Bruce's eyes, as sharp as ever, didn't miss that. 

"He's doing a lot better now, huh?"

"He is. He showed me the place, he did a really nice job on it. I was thinking of asking him to do my room but it would probably feel like a pity project since I don't really use my room anymore."

"Would it be a pity project? Would you just be asking him to do it because it makes him happy or because you really like his work?" Bruce asked, sipping his tea and watching carefully. 

"...No I... I mean, it makes him really happy and when you've started developing skills like that it's nice to be able to apply them to a number of projects, not just, like, learn them for a one off and then... let them rot. It's not right, really. So... it's... I don't know. I don't want it to be a pity project. It's not just make work, it's because... it matters to him more than it matters to me."

"Well, rather than something which could be construed as makework even if it isn't... I know you've been thinking about sorting out a studio here, so why don't you ask Bucky help you to plan it and then build it for you? He was saying he'd bought a desk so I don't know if he's doing more arty stuff too but at the very least it could be a joint project between the two of you. It would give you a space for your art and you could do all the kinds of things you wanted to do that you never had space or money for before. And it's something he can give you if he wants to without it being... hard to think about or him having to apologise or explain things he might not have the words for yet. Not that I could blame him if he never did. Nobody should have to go through what he did."

Steve nodded, looking a little calmer now, and he set his half empty glass down. 

"That sounds really good actually... I know Tony's been saying I can have a studio for ages but I'd never really... I hadn't thought about doing it like that and it always seemed like a lot of work otherwise because I could always ask any of you to pose for me, or just sketch you, or sit pretty much anywhere and I spend so much time in the workshop drawing Tony but... a real studio. With canvases and stuff... where I wouldn't be in anyone's way if I had a bigger project to do... that sounds so good and you're right, I think Bucky would do a great job of it. I'll talk to him later."

"Good," Bruce was smiling now, "I'm glad. I think it's something that might work out well for both of you, and I'd like to see that. You deserve good things."

"You're too kind, really..." Steve's smile was warm and sweet as he threw back the last of his tea in one long swallow, "In fact I might go find him now if that's... if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all," Bruce reassured him gently, "At all. But take a couple of cookies for the road. Bucky might need them if he's in the middle of something. I hear decorating's hard work. And they seem to brighten your days too and I figure somebody as sweet as you can never have enough sweet things, Captain."

"Thank you," Steve was blushing hard as he took the cookies that Bruce wrapped up in a napkin for him, "You're very kind but... I think you already knew that really. At least, I hope you did. Because you are and your kindness is amazing after everything you've known and it means so much to all of us. Not that you have to be kind or anything, obviously you don't have to be anything, I just mean that... well... no that isn't really making sense I suppose. I should just... go... but I'll see you at dinner?"

"See you at dinner," Bruce confirmed, laughing as he did so and moving to close the door behind Steve. It was good to see him coming to terms with his friend's improvements in such a healthy way. When you had been through so much together it was hard not to feel like you should have a bigger part in someone's recovery but... well, Steve had always been a strong person and now it was really starting to come to the fore. He wasn't sad that Bucky was getting better without him, or feeling alone and rejected, he was just happy that Bucky was getting better and trying to find ways to support his recovery without sabotaging it or getting too close. It was a real testament to his determination and the depth of his friendship, and Bruce got the feeling that anybody would be lucky to call Steve their friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd get this one up early for you guys. Just to be clear, Steve loves Bucky and is proud of him, he's really genuinely glad he's doing better and finding things to do for himself. It's just a bit hard for him not to worry that he isn't needed any more. Not that any of the team would let him think that for a second.
> 
> Unfortunately I'm now leaving territory where I know what I'm doing and heading towards unplanned songfics and thesis-bergs, wish me luck!


	35. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war is telling a little on one of the tower's Russian assassins.

Bruce was hardly surprised when he turned around from where he had been leaning over the kettle to see a figure on his sofa which had definitely not been there a few moments ago. He allowed himself a slight smile, reached for a second glass, and filled both with the water without complaint. The clear liquid turned red and he spent a moment watching it billow up like blood. It wasn't an entirely unrelated thought to the slight person behind him, though it was, perhaps, a little unfair. 

No matter what Natasha thought, Bruce didn't agree that she necessarily had more red in her ledger than anybody else. He wasn't sure of the death toll of the other guy's activities but he knew he wasn't blameless. Clint had served time as a gun for hire, Steve was a soldier, Bucky was a soldier and an assassin... she might not have been innocent, but she was not irredeemable. 

"Here." he handed her a glass as he crossed the room again, back to the sofas where she now rested. She was not the largest of the team by any measure but he did not believe he had ever seen her look so small before. "Strawberry and raspberry..."

She took it with a nod of thanks and sipped it. She had removed her shoes, though he knew from experience she did not need to be barefoot to move silently, and had drawn her knees to her chest. He was not sure if it was defensiveness or exhaustion, but she was weary indeed. In an odd way Bruce felt privileged to see this side of her. He knew it was not something many people would be permitted to share in. 

"...It's a colour I've seen a lot lately."

Her voice was husky, and he wasn't sure whether it was from a virus or simply overuse, but she glanced up at him, finally making eye contact, and though they were weary her eyes were clear and there was a hint of the spark he knew well.

"It's refreshing though, comforting somehow, thank you."

"You're welcome. I have some biscuits that go quite well with it if you'd like...?"

He left the question open, a polite suggestion rather than an obligation. He wasn't sure when she might have eaten recently, or whether the war SHIELD was engaged in had robbed her of her appetite. 

"That sounds good. I haven't eaten in a while."

Bruce made no comment as he reached for the tin, allowing her to elaborate or not at her own discretion. He knew these things were hard to talk about for anyone, let alone one as accustomed to keeping secrets as Natasha. He understood that in a way it was harder to talk to a doctor about too, and a friend and a doctor... well, it was the worst combination. 

"Not deliberately you understand. I've just been that busy. And the flights haven't been the most peaceful either."

"Ah..." He handed her a large round biscuit on a plate, with a blob of jam in the middle of it. She regarded it quizzically for a moment, looking between it and him a few times, before shrugging and taking a bite. She couldn't quite muffle the soft groan as the combination of brown sugar and a hint of vanilla crumbled on her tongue. 

"That's wonderful... perhaps a little unorthodox but..."

"It's a variation on a British recipe. I was experimenting in the kitchen and I thought they sounded nice. I always prefer baking with brown sugar, it's an altogether richer kind of sweetness I think."

"I would agree. They go well with the tea."

"Thank you, I'm glad. Would you like another cup?"

"Perhaps in a while?"

She was smiling now, and the tiredness made her honest despite herself. She could hide it, control it if she needed to, but the Tower was her home, a safe space with friends and family and she didn't want to keep fighting it for the moment. It was a waste of resources here where she could know she wouldn't be judged.

"...I have a wonderful blanket if you'd like to take a little nap?"

"...Thank you, Doctor. I can't sleep without someone to watch my back, not at the moment. Usually I'd ask Clint but he's off on a different mission."

"I didn't think they usually ran you separately."

"They don't. We're a team. Strike Team Delta. Clint used to make all kinds of filthy jokes about that being the acronym for our team of all teams, but... well, SHIELD's resources are more than a little bit stretched at the moment and our skill sets are needed in different places, so as much as we might dislike it there's nothing to be done."

"I've got some papers to read. I'll be here for a while, it doesn't make any difference to me whether you stay or go but I'll admit if you stay I'd rather make you a little more comfortable."

"I'd need to stay on the sofa-"

"Oh I understand that but if you look in the drawer underneath you'll find a couple of pillows and a blanket."

She gave him a quizzical look as she unearthed the finds.

"Sometimes it's easier?" he shrugged, "After so long on the run a bed can be too soft, and sometimes friends need a bed and don't want to share... there are plenty of reasons to have them. But you're always welcome to use them if you need."

"Thank you. I'll bear that in mind."

He gave her a pleasant smile as she settled the pillows to her satisfaction. 

"Do."

Bruce said nothing as Natasha settled down to rest for a while, instead turning to a stack of literature that he was reviewing for his latest set of experiments. He'd been out of the scientific world a long time and there had been some very impressive developments. Besides that he needed to remind himself how to write, construct and present papers for when he finally had results that would merit publication. He busied himself with that for a couple of hours, and it was gone six by the time Natasha stirred. He knew that had been at least two sleep cycles and so she would be a little better rested if nothing else. 

"....Are they interesting?"

"They are rather, actually. There's discussion of radiation being used to catalyse reactions. It's not gamma rays but it's not entirely dissimilar."

"Are you playing with radiation downstairs? Because if so I'll tell Clint to get out of your vents."

"Not entirely? It's a difficult question. I'm always torn. On the one hand, nothing worse could exactly happen to me at this stage so it's better if I do the research which could endanger other people or expose them to undue risk. On the other hand I do have a distinct desire to never deal with radiation again."

She was smiling now as she looked at him, head tilted in an attitude he had never before seen outside of famous paintings. He didn't think people wore that expression in real life and yet here she was, as perfect now as she ever had been with no signs of sleep mussed hair or smudged makeup. He had no idea how she did it but he knew enough to be fairly certain that Pepper would kill for the information if he could ever find out her secret.

"I understand how you feel. I know killing better than anything, and I do the dirty jobs so nobody else has to but that doesn't mean I like doing them," She considered her hands for a moment and shrugged, "On the other hand with so much blood on them I doubt I could turn these to another purpose and so I carry on. Mine is perhaps a little more distasteful than yours to think about but I do at least understand your quandary."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, I won't lie but I appreciate the change in perspective. I always do. I try to consider the world from different points of view and I'd be lying if I said I didn't find yours fascinating."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Are you trying to get inside my head, Doctor?"

"No. I would never dream of it. I'm not a therapist, or a psychiatrist, and I have no wish to branch out. On one hand the tower is full of fascinating cases, on the other hand I'm fairly sure that as a collective group we would drive mental health professionals mad themselves."

"You're not wrong. There's something ironic about the man famous for being a real world Doctor Jekyll being the most well adjusted of the team."

Bruce smiled. 

"Your tea's cold, would you like me to make a fresh pot?"

"Actually, I'm hungry. I haven't felt properly hungry in a while. I think I should indulge that."

"I was planning on bean stew. It won't take long and I could easily make enough for two?"

"Is Pepper joining us?"

"Three. I can easily make enough for three. It's a very flexible recipe."

Natasha smiled and nodded, stretching as she stood up.

"You have a very comfortable sofa. Is there anything i can do to assist with dinner? Please bear in mind that I cannot cook but I can chop things as finely as you like."

"There's nothing to chop this time but I may call upon your assistance at other times if that's alright with you?"

"I would be happy to help. I owe you a tremendous debt."

"You owe me nothing, Natasha. We're friends. True friendship doesn't keep score."

She gave him an odd look and shrugged after a moment.

"You play the game differently to everyone else I've ever known. I don't keep score as long as I know that I'm not in debt. So long as people owe me, I'm winning and I'm in control."

Bruce shrugged.

"I don't play the game. I found out the rules and I smashed the board. I give, without counting the cost, to paraphrase one of the many saints of the world, and I don't plan on changing that."

"I think medicine was the vocation in your blood waiting to be called upon."

"Possibly. If I'd heeded the call earlier I might not turn green."

"Perhaps not but then I would never have met you and I admit that my life would have been poorer for that. I think all our lives would have."

He paused at that, and smiled slightly, warmth settling over him. 

"...Thank you. I will bear that in mind."

She nodded and he headed for the little kitchenette.

"You've been busy lately then, Natasha?"

"We're fighting a war."

"Is it hard?"

"War is hard on everyone Doctor, I thought you knew that."

"I've seen enough wars from the aftermath and the sidelines, you're not wrong. But that's not what I asked."

She shrugged.

"It's not my first time."

"Also not what I asked."

"Then what are you asking?"

"You lost a key part of your carefully reconstructed piecemeal identity because everything else had been stripped from you and now you feel like you're dancing on a rockslide, the music is speeding up and you have no idea where you'll land, if you'll land, if you'll lose everything else you have or whether when you come to you'll break every bone in your body? Or that's how it is if you feel anything like I feel anyway."

"That's an impressive analogy."

"Thank you."

He deliberately didn't call her on the blatant avoidance strategy. She was, at least, more subtle than Clint and he knew she would need time to think. The least he could do was afford her that.

"I suppose I'm still trying to work out what I'm fighting for. Who I can trust. I put my faith in a system when my entire upbringing told me not to and this is what came of it. That's hard to process. I trust Phil, I trust Clint... there are a few others, too, but not many. And coming on the heels of everything with Barnes... it's shaken me. So I throw myself into my work because I trust the calls Phil's making and if I could I would burn the whole nest of vipers out with fire because the thought of them makes me sick, the thought that for so long I've been unwittingly part of something so corrupt... this organisation was started with the best ideals. I understand that from Phil, and even better now I've met Steve. I met Peggy too, before she started deteriorating. But I have more rage in me than I ever thought possible. Strong emotion is something I said farewell to a long time ago. It was practically trained out of me, along with the desire for other things, like a home, like a family... and then suddenly I built all those things with my own hard work and I didn't realise till it hit me one day. And they wanted to take it from me. I won't let them. They will burn. They will burn for what they did."

Bruce blinked at the ferocity of her words. She wasn't wrong, he had never seen her react strongly to anything even the strongest provocation. Natasha had always been the mistress of her own emotions and here she was trusting him with this and he didn't know how to respond.

"And so part of it is hiding in my work and part of it is my own determination not to let a single one of them escape. I will not let this corruption spread. I will not let this cancer spread. Some of them were foolish, that I believe and if they genuinely turn I am in no place to reject them but it's a good thing Phil's making those calls because I can't, Doctor. I can't. And I had thought for so long that this could never, would never be me. That I couldn't connect or put down roots, that I drifted. I didn't think I could feel betrayal or rage or... anything. But I am now and it's confusing me and all of this is bringing back memories, throwing up nightmares I haven't had in decades. I couldn't tell you whether working with Barnes is helping or hindering but he's there, some of the time he is there. And I have never been so lost."

Bruce paused for a long moment, debating what to do. He hadn't expected this frankness, this honesty from her. It always helped not to expect too much from Natasha because otherwise one was invariably disappointed (unless you knew her well enough to read the barest tells of emotion or affection). He wondered if this was part of her new broom, or perhaps if it was something he should be concerned about. It was an honour and a privilege, but only if this was the real Natasha. He was sure Clint knew her well enough, but he wasn't sure. Still. For now he would play along. 

He hugged her, close but easy enough for her to duck out of if it were to prove too much for her. 

"...We are here. We were here when this began, we are here through it, with you, and we will still stand after it is all over and when the dust settles. You are an Avenger now, not just a spy, not just an assassin, not just a SHIELD agent, and you are a part of this family. We will not let them take you. We will not betray you and we will let them burn."

"I didn't think doctors advocated violence."

"I don't. But this is more about ideology than it is about violence and I prioritise the comfort of my friends over those who wish me ill. I've had quite enough of those who wish me ill over the years."

"You're a good friend, Doctor."

"Thank you. I try to be. Do you feel more rested now?"

"I do. Thank you."

"My pleasure..."

"Does the invitation for dinner still stand?"

"It does. You're more than welcome. I hope you'll come back, if you can't sleep."

"I may well do that," she smiled a little and nodded, "I may well do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is May's chapter, and it is a week late, and for that I apologise. I know this is technically the second time I've been late this year. I apologise for that too. On the other hand, I know where this is going, and while I'm holding to my promise that I will keep writing this as long as there is an interest in it, I am going to start a new fic in another ten chapters' time because I think this is getting a little intimidating for new readers and I don't want to put people off! Please subscribe to the series and you'll get updates on all the oneshots and the new fic when it comes too :) I'd hate to lose all your support.
> 
> In my defence, the lateness of this chapter is because in May I moved home from my year abroad, submitted my thesis, did my viva and sat my final exam and so I have now officially finished my first degree (though I don't know the results yet and won't graduate till July). Personally I feel that's a reasonable excuse, and I hope you can forgive my lateness!


	36. Thor

The tower had been noticeably quieter with Thor away on honeymoon - they'd taken a whole month. The first two weeks had been spent on Asgard, and exploring some of the other realms on the worlds' tree, and the second had been spent on an exotic honeymoon funded entirely by Stark Industries taking in some of the world's most interesting historic locations and exotic locales. Pepper and Tony had collaborated on the itinerary and the result had been a trip that Jane would never have been able to fund herself which was full of wonderful experiences while still leaving them enough time to get to know each other. The latter had been explained by Tony with a lot of nudging and winking that had resulted in Jane hiding behind her hand and Thor looking vaguely confused. 

Still, it was nice when he returned all the same. After the honeymoon Thor had taken an extra week off to spend in New Mexico with Jane, and some of the texts that the rest of the tower had received from Darcy during that time indicated that the novelty of marriage certainly hadn't worn off for either of them. The team had certainly needed his help, though. War Machine had been drafted in to cover and they all loved having Rhodey around (even if Tony still bristled if he was referred to as 'the big gun') but Thor brought something different and at times it was something they sorely needed, especially when they were dealing with the kind of weird that Thor was expert in. 

Not all threats fell within the purview of the Prince of Asgard, that at least was true, and they'd spent plenty of time communicating with Stephen Strange and Peter Quill about various battles, but Thor understood history and mythology in ways the rest of them didn't. Besides which, Allspeak meant at least he could swear at attackers in their own language when they were causing problems and make it clear they weren't welcome. 

One of the first things Thor did upon his return to the tower was pay a visit to Bruce. His knock was as thunderous as ever, and Bruce was smiling as he opened the door. It had been too long. 

"Welcome, come in..."

"I am glad to be here Doctor, I hope I am not causing you any inconvenience?"

"None at all. It's great to have you back."

"I hope you are well? And your green-skinned brother? And the Lady Pepper?"

"Yes, thank you, we're all well... I'm sure you would have heard about it if we weren't..." Bruce smiled softly, heading back towards his kitchen to put the kettle on.

"If you are going to offer me tea, Doctor?"

"I am?" Bruce turned back to glance questioningly over his shoulder, and Thor beamed, holding out a bag.

"I have brought you some Asgardian leaves which brew up into a most invigorating beverage. I thought they might be of some use to you, and perhaps a gift you might enjoy."

"That is very kind of you, thank you..." Bruce reached for the bag, wide eyed.

"My lady mother was kind enough to write out brewing instructions in Midgardian. They are in the bag. Would you be so kind?"

"Of course, let me just find out what I have to do..."

Bruce busied himself with the new tea while Thor ambled amiably around, gazing out over the city. 

"Did you have a good trip?"

"Oh? Yes! Yes indeed, it was splendid, thank you for asking. It was wonderful to be able to explore the nine realms with Jane, and to see parts of this world I had never dreamed of."

"Did you explore all nine realms?"

"No, Doctor. She is already familiar with this one, of course, and Asgard. Not all of the nine realms are hospitable, indeed many are not. We visited Vanaheim and stayed a while with Hogun's folk. Svartalfheim, Jotunheim, Muspelheim, Niflheim and Helheim are all inhospitable. Indeed, Helheim is the realm of the inglorious dead who are not blessed with entrance to Valhalla. But Alfheim was pleasant for a few days too. Most of our time we spent in Asgard and Vanaheim. The people of both realms love Jane very much and accept her as their princess. I believe they were a little concerned at first, and I will admit the hereditary line is not... well, my father occasionally seems immortal and at other times so very weak. It is hard to tell. And for so long I was a carefree bachelor. I believe it reassures them to see me settled down and married, for all that the Midgardian blood might pose a threat to the line's future longevity the prospect of future generations coming to pass at all is a relief."

"I think I understand. How is Jane taking it all?"

"She will never be the kind of princess my mother once was, nor a warrior like the Lady Sif, but she will be a good and wise queen one day if she wishes it."

"And if she does not?"

"Then she does not and all is well with me. I would choose her and Asgard, my duties here and to all the realms even beyond the reach of Yggdrasil over ruling from my father's throne."

"Do you have a choice?"

"That is... perhaps where things become a little more difficult?"

Thor looked awkward now, and Bruce smiled as he gestured for the large man to sit, setting the pot of steeping leaves on the table between them.

"Tell me about it?"

"My brother and I... we were raised as equals and though we were never twins, nor brothers of blood, we were brothers in spirit despite the differences in our interests and it is true that I owe Loki my life. In fact, all of Asgard owes him a greater debt than they could conceive and yet he was other and it was no secret and so he was shunned and ostracised. Would that I could go back and undo the foolishness of my youth-" he cut himself off and smiled slightly, "Though perhaps there is little else I would change than my treatment of Loki. Eventually it drove him mad, his need for recognition, not even approbation but simply to be valued and appreciated as our father... rarely showed him. He was free with praise for me but not for Loki. And I was declared Crown Prince shortly before my banishment. I believe that was one of the last straws for him, part of the reason for his crafting of an attack he could defeat alone, one which would cement his place, robbing Laufey of his life and defeating our longest standing enemy. He was not aware of the blood tie when he forged that plan and even then he went ahead, risking everything for the sake of Asgard. Had he spoken more plainly perhaps things might have ended differently. But he was a better candidate for kingship than I. I belive my father chose me because of our similarities, but I was more reckless than he, more brash and quick to anger, where Loki thought always of more than himself and preferred words to swords where possible. I still think he might be a better king, and I will not rule without him to advise me."

"Is Loki..." Bruce paused, unsure how to ask the question,"Still around?"

"Aye. He is held prisoner in Asgard's dungeons."

Bruce said nothing, allowing Thor to talk if he wanted to. He sensed somehow that the God was not done in saying whatever he needed to on the subject of his brother, and Bruce was getting very good at leaving the kind of silences that people wanted to fill. 

"I worry for him, sometimes. He is not... the man he used to be. He used to be merry and full of life, full of mischief rather than malice and the change concerns me, particularly since I cannot pinpoint it."

"It's possible that there was no specific moment that it happened, you know that, right?"

"I agree that it was almost certainly cumulative rather than a sudden change doctor, but... nonetheless. There is something about it which seems ill. We did not treat him as well as we should have as children perhaps. That I am sure of. And I know that he was jealous of me. I never envied him his closeness with my mother because she was free with affection for the both of us though I always understood they were closer. One of the things I learned from my father which has since been undone by many of the women of Midgard was a... not a disrespect, or a disdain even, but the sense that women's matters were less important. I never appreciated until I was older the wisdom of my mother as a queen and ruler, not just as a woman, nor her skill as a mage."

"But you respected Sif?"

"The Lady Sif... spoke my language, for want of a better explanation, Doctor. She was skilled with the blade, is skilled with the blade and fights even more fiercely than the other Warriors I have known should the call come for her to do so. Loki did not fight that way, he was never one for the head on approach, and I disdained trickery and shadows. I had no respect for the skill it took to weave them even when they undoubtedly saved my life. I would go back and change that if I could but I cannot and still I call Loki my brother and still I would forgive him and redeem him if I could. I do not believe that his actions, the ones which resulted in my banishment, were malicious. The most a kingdom can ask of its king is that he be prepared to put its needs far and beyond above his own, and Loki perhaps did that with that plot. He felled Laufey, even knowing that the Jotunn king was his own blood, and took the name of Odinson which he has never been permitted to bear. Instead his greatest efforts were thwarted and perhaps it was that above all else which turned him to malice, but I know in my heart that my brother was controlled as Agent Barton and it troubles me that he has not been helped. The torture was long and hard, of that I am sure, and the control was longer still. He may yet bear scars in his mind which will not heal, or at least not without help and the thought grieves me because I cannot help him."

"He came to the wedding, I thought?"

"Aye, he was there, and I do believe he is healing but... he is my brother, despite all else, and what blood may have passed between us we were raised as brothers. We played together, we fought together, and to me at least there was no illusion of inequality. Knowing how he felt, though I hope those words were tainted with the voice of his puppeteer, it grieves me sorely. I did not prove myself to be as worthy a brother to him as he was to me time and again. I would have died, without him, Doctor. Many a time I would have died without him and even when I was reckless and foolish and when he knew my plans to be as naught he still accompanied me with no obligation upon him save that of being my brother because he loved me so then. Now, I do not know, but then... ah, then..."

Bruce urged the Asgardian tea towards the wistful God and took a sip of his own, blinking slightly in surprise as he felt a sense of warmth settle over his whole being, soothing him both inside and out. It was the most refreshing thing he had ever tasted, though he could not quite put his finger on why.

"This is lovely, thank you, it's one of the nicest things I've ever had..."

"I shall pass my compliments on to my mother."

"It's very kind of her... She seemed like a wonderful lady when I met her before."

"She will be very pleased to hear it, I am certain."

Thor smiled, and Bruce was relieved to see that his countenance had cleared. The sky remained perfectly clear but the subject of his brother was a sensitive one and Bruce could understand why. 

"Thank you for allowing me to talk freely about my brother, Doctor. There are few with whom I feel I can converse about him. So many require me to be guarded with my affection and my words."

"You're welcome. Honestly I'm always happy to listen - please do feel free to come talk to me anytime."

"But I have digressed... my brother, I feel, would have made a wiser ruler than I but he has been corrupted through neglect and jealousy. He always had more of a sense of diplomacy, it was necessary for him to learn it and his skill with words is even greater than mine with my arm, though he can lead and is an able warrior and mage if at all necessary. I am... I have learned but not as well as he. My father sent me away when my recklessness endangered my friends' lives and he was right to do so. Not all conflicts can be resolved through force of arms and might is not... might is not always right. Open combat is also not the wisest of routes even when one is certain of victory. Blood is a dear price to pay, and it should not be spilt needlessly or cavalierly."

"Sounds to me like you've learned some of the more important lessons. If you're brought up with everything there's a long way to fall when you realise not everyone lives up in the clouds."

"You are too kind to me..."

"No, I don't... I try not to be harsh with my words, but I also don't do what Tony does and flatter needlessly. Words have a lot of power and I respect them too much to misuse them."

Thor chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Truly you are wise, particularly for a Midgardian."

"Much like you I learned the hard way."

"I believe we all did but perhaps we are kinder for it."

Bruce smiled and toasted him quietly, eyes sparkling as he nodded. 

"I think you could be right. I don't know if that's why we do what we do but I think it plays a part..."

"Perhaps... now, my Lady Jane was working on a new scientific paper before our marriage, and when we returned from our honeymoon we discovered that her submission had been accepted. She has been so kind as to give me a draft copy of it. I was wondering whether I might trouble you to go through it with me so that I may be sure I understand it properly? I so admire her work and I know it takes up your time to explain such things to me but I hope you might extend me such patience."

"I didn't know Jane had been working on something new!" Bruce beamed, "I'd love to look through it with you. There's a special thrill in getting a preview of something like this. And she's such a good writer. That's not to be sneezed at. A lot of people struggle to communicate their ideas and their research. The language is different - that is specialist to every field obviously, and I'm sure you'll pick up some of it as you keep following her research, but at least you're reading some of the better structured papers."

Thor was beaming, practically radiant with pride as he withdrew the papers from within his cloak.

"Here..."

Bruce moved closer to him on the sofa, taking another sip of his tea and laying out the pages so that they could both read them more easily. 

They pored over the article as the sky slowly shaded from blue to orange, to pink, and cooler still. 

Finally Thor sat back, satisfied, and drained the last of his tea though it was now cold.

"...Thank you Doctor, you are most kind."

"My pleasure... that was really great, please pass on my compliments to Jane. I should get dinner started for Pepper."

"Of course, your lady companion will return soon from her long day's labours! I will allow you to continue your evening, but I do hope to see you soon."

"I hope so too Thor, take care..."

"And you, Doctor, and you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all well! Enjoy guys!


	37. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint needs a break from the crap that's going on at SHIELD, so he goes to see his brother with some iced tea for the hot weather.

The heat was finally starting to hit, and while he was more familiar with heat than many of the others, having spent time in India and parts of China where both the heat and the humidity could become unbearable at times, there was a special kind of haze in the city, a choking in the air which meant that Bruce hated going outside in the summer unless he had to. Even Hulk wasn't that keen. Not so reluctant, of course, that he wouldn't fight to protect his friends and innocent civilians, but that he would often grouse afterwards and spend hours in the shower as he changed back trying to get the grimy feeling off his skin. 

Iced tea was the best in this weather, and there were some teas which were so much sweeter cold than others. Bruce seemed to find himself starting the day early, waking with Pepper to share a leisurely breakfast and stretch a little, then setting a new pot of tea to boil and steep. It could then be left to cool throughout the day, and be put in the fridge for tomorrow. Whilst it was always cool enough by the afternoon, Bruce found there was something about the evening ritual of changing the pots over that was soothing, and he certainly wasn't putting a glass teapot of boiling liquid straight in the fridge. He had made that mistake with lab glassware often enough in his earlier career to be determined not to repeat it with something so important as his tea. 

He had some beautiful fruit tisanes, but there was something to be said for drawing on teas from hot countries, like Turkish apple or pomegranate, like flower tea from Jordan or Morrocan mint. He had a series of them on rotation, and he knew for a fact that Pepper was taking small pots with her to work to keep her fresh throughout the day. The tower was air conditioned in its entirety, and Jarvis' climate control was absolutely flawless, but still, it wasn't worth the aggravation of drinking hot tea when even glancing out the window made him feel prickly and uncomfortable. It was like perpetually being on the edge of hulking out. 

Bruce was flopped on the sofa, eyes half closed and an almost empty glass of mint tea at his elbow when there was a knock at the door. He groaned in an undertone but moved to answer it regardless. He couldn't help but smile when Clint was on the other side of the door, grinning and carrying two bottles of something Bruce couldn't identify from here. 

"Hey..." he stepped back to let his brother in, smiling softly, "Been a while... SHIELD's been keeping you busy."

"It's been crazy. No lie. But I wanted to stop by while I was in town and bring you a little present that's fitting for the weather."

"Oh yeah, what'd you bring me?"

"One of the few good memories I have from my childhood. Lemon iced tea. Synthetic, sugar filled, and fucking delicious, also amazingly refreshing."

"Oh yeah, I think I remember that from China... I hadn't even thought to look for it over here, thank you, that's a great idea... "

"You're suffering in the weather huh?"

"Aren't you?"

"There's not much climate that gets to me these days. Like, there probably should be, but there isn't."

"Yeah..." Bruce smiled softly and wrapped his arm around Clint's shoulders for a brief squeeze of a hug, "So, you in town long?"

"I don't know. SHIELD's sending me everywhere right now, along with Tasha, hunting down little nests of Hydra goons and stuff. It's like fighting an actual Hydra, you know? Logically there has to come a point where we will have killed more of them than still keep fighting but that point is not now and they're coming out in the open. We didn't have to worry about active warfare before now. But we had the element of surprise and because of that we are winning. It's just that after the initial triumphs we're settling down into a long, shitty war of attrition, you know?"

"Yeah, I think that's how a lot of wars tend to go these days..."

"So I hear... sorry we're gone so much. You guys handling everything okay without us?"

"Well, we're still here, but we miss you. Nobody gives better air cover or information than you. There is nobody else any of us would rather have watching our backs. And you know we need Tasha too. Between them she and Steve are the best tacticians I've seen for thinking on their feet without the big picture view. Though you have the big picture and you're pretty damn good too. We'd benefit from Phil but I know that's not so possible at the moment either."

"The time will come, don't worry big brother, the time will come... any way, for now you feel like drinking something horribly oversweetened with me and just shooting the shit for a while? I don't wanna think about work."

"You're the expert in shooting absolutely anything so I figure if I'm going to shoot the shit with anyone it might as well be you."

Bruce shot back with a smile and pulled the tin out from under the table.

"Here, they're not as good as yours but I baked some chocolate chip cookies the other day. I tested them on the super soldiers, so you know they're good if the all american icon thinks that another all american icon is good too."

Clint laughed and took a couple, shoving one straight in his mouth and palming the other one for later. Bruce didn't point out how unadvised this was; Jarvis would keep it cool enough that Clint was unlikely to get chocolate all over his hands and even if he did it wouldn't faze him. Besides, all of Bruce's furniture was of a colour that it wouldn't show, even if Clint did manage to get it everywhere. 

"This is great. Thanks."

"You know you're always welcome here. So. If you don't want to talk about work does that mean I have to do all the talking, or...?"

"Nah, I can tell you about the awesome prank war we have going on."

"SHIELD is at war, the world is falling to pieces, and you still have time to have a prank war? Somehow I am terribly unsurprised."

"That's because you have no faith in me."

"I have plenty of faith in you, Clint. I just know you too well."

"Well I guess that's one way of looking at it."

The second cookie disappeared in its entirety behind a self-satisfied, wicked grin, and Bruce found himself unable to resist laughing. 

"So, basically-" the explanation was muffled and crumbs sprayed everywhere but Clint made no apology and Bruce didn't expect one, "Phil's got this bunch of ducklings, right? Cute kids, but one of them has no formal academy training so the others started a prank war, I think it was the science twins, FitzSimmons, have you met them? You should totally meet them, they like, idolise you and Tony it's adorable, and Simmons comes out with these creepy things sometimes but she totally doesn't mean them and she's British and the two of you should definitely talk about tea. But then anyway, this prank war starts up and then May gets in on it, now May hasn't played a prank on anyone since before her incident. It's part of who she was, but it wasn't part of who she is now except that being around them is helping her heal too, so that's all great. Phil's claiming that he's staying above the fray while totally pranking both teams just like May is, while you then have Comms and Ops because Ward does whatever Skye tells him, against SciTech. But, like, there's a distinct imbalance here because Coulson and May are totally not playing by the rules, and Comms has a team and SciTech has a team but Ops doesn't. Now, most Ops people would probably have way deadlier pranks than it's actually okay to use on innocent little science babies, terrified ex-Hydra goons with a history of abuse or orphans who were passed around foster homes more regularly than flights leave JFK. So Tasha and me decided we'd form our own team and make things a little more fair."

"Exactly how does that make things fair?"

"Well, now ops has some representation."

"I didn't think either of you went to the academy."

"Maybe not, but that's not the point."

"Clint, that is a teeny little bit of the point. Besides which everyone other than May and Coulson is probably too terrified to even consider pranking Natasha."

"I think I'm offended that they're not scared of me, and also that you think I'm too scared to prank Natasha."

"Would you prank Natasha?"

"It depends if she'd know it was me."

"I think you just answered your own question."

Clint pulled a face and shrugged, grabbing another cookie.

"Yeah, maybe, but she loves me. I'm cute and fluffy and adorable."

Bruce laughed, and Clint just grinned in response, toasting him with the half eaten cookie. 

"I am the team mascot." He grinned with a mouthful of crumbs.

"You're an integral part of the team though, I mean it when I said I've missed you."

"I know, but that's work talk and we promised no work talk, remember?"

"Alright, so what do you want to talk about."

"Domestic shit. I like domestic shit. I don't get enough of it really and because I never had any growing up, I don't take it for granted now."

"Alright, so... well, let's see. Bucky's settling in pretty well, he's coping surprisingly well with Darcy moving in here. Steve and Tony are being ridiculously adorable and Steve is getting even better at corraling and wrangling our other resident genius. I think Pepper's been giving him some tips, but his approach is different to hers. If Tony's refusing to leave the workshop, Steve has found that sleep deprived Tony is very susceptible to him taking his shirt off. Of which I thoroughly approve, because half naked Steve is very ornamental around the place and also I'm a doctor and Tony's work binges are not healthy from any point of view."

"Does Pepper know you've been perving on Steve?"

"You say that like you don't think she's been perving with me."

"...That's a very fair point. Does Tony know?"

"Tony is smug as hell about dating Steve, and Steve is not anywhere near as bashful as he used to be."

"Fair enough. Sounds like you're having a lot of fun without us."

"We'll have even more fun when you come back. I'm genuinely considering organising a strip video games tournament or something."

"I'll totally win."

"Maybe. I wouldn't put it past you to lose a few times on purpose in front of Phil because you're shameless and you like showing off in front of him."

"I like showing off in front of my future husband because he appreciates me." Clint grinned and took a deep draught of tea, and shook his head disbelievingly, "Future husband, can you believe that? How the hell did I get lucky enough to land a guy like him?"

"He loves you. Anyone can see it. He came to see me after and asked me permission as your older brother. I mean, your opinion is the most important but I think he's a really good man, he's respectful and there is nothing he wouldn't do for you."

"And he's fucking incredible in the sack."

"I am your older brother, there are things I do not need to know about the filthy depraved things you and Coulson get up to between the sheets."

Clint's grin was practically animalistic and Bruce was laughing as he smacked him with the cushion and the two of them collapsed into happy laughter and hugged each other close.

"I'm so glad you came back into my life."

"Me too, Clint, me too... I'm not so sure about the routes either of us took to get here but to be honest I don't think I'd trade this life or these people for anything. I have you back in my life, I have Pepper, I have a family around me and that's more than I thought I'd be able to have ever again for such a long time after the accident."

"I never thought I'd have it. You got fostered, you did have a family, a supportive family and I'd never take that away from you but I ended up in the circus and I ddin't ever think I could get better than that. And now here I am. I'm an agent, I'm the top sniper in the whole of SHIELD, I have an amazing fiancé and I have my brother and a great best friend and a family and I'm living in a fucking skyscraper on top of New York City with personalised Stark gear. This is so far beyond living the dream I have to pinch myself every day when I wake up with Phil, when I snag Tony's pancakes before he's conscious enough to drag himself into the kitchen because he's not caffeinated yet and this whole thing is just so... so fucking incredible. And I'm so glad you're here because you would always have been part of the best future I could never have dreamed of, and you're /here/. And I'm alive, which to be honest was not part of my future plans."

"Clint..."

"What?"

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm completely serious. It's true. It's totally true. Like, I wish it weren't true obviously I wish it weren't true but the fact is I spent enough nights sleeping behind dumpsters in the rain, selling my body to get by, I lost enough of the people I trusted and learned how to play a dangerous game because it was the only way I could stay alive. And I liked it in a way because I had some control, or at least the illusion of control even when I knew it was just being able to make myself valuable enough to the right people that kept me alive. I made my own calls. I didn't take every job they offered me. I never hurt kids and I never hurt innocents. I might have blood on my hands but it's not those people's blood. That was one of the things that made me a little leery of joining SHIELD but Coulson promised when he brought me in that he'd let me keep that control, that it wasn't something I'd lose. And that's a promise he's never broken, not once. I don't think he knows how to break a promise but I think that kind of morality... I don't know maybe I unintentionally played into his Captain America fetish. It was moral, or something like that. I never wanted to be a bully. I met enough of them. I didn't want to be another. But even with all that aside... that's not a lifestyle with a high life expectancy, Bruce. It's not. People who do that kind of work and live that kind of life tend to turn up floating face down in the river if they turn up at all. But Phil came along and put my life right and somewhere along the way we found Natasha."

"I thought she said she found you."

"Well, okay that's possibly a more accurate version of the story. Whatever people might have told you about her, it's all true."

"You told me she-"

"It's still all true."

Bruce raised his eyebrows, and Clint grinned brightly.

"Trust me, she's my best friend. It's all true. But the main thing that's true is that you will never ever catch the Black Widow if she does not want to be caught. You know she's not the only one who trained for that title, she's not the only Widow in the world, but the thing is that none of the others... they don't call themselves that. When the unsavoury people of this world talk about the Black Widow, they mean her. Yelena's set up in business for herself now and I've run across her a number of times but she's got nothing on Tasha and she knows it and it burns. She came after Tasha soon after Tasha joined SHIELD. The way Yelena saw it, choosing to work with the enemy was soft, it meant that Natasha wasn't worthy of being the Black Widow anymore. Yelena wanted to claim the title for herself. She's never managed. Never ever. That title has been Natasha's ever since she was like twelve years old. Might have been younger, I'm not sure, we don't talk about our childhoods much unless we get drunk together."

"I didn't think Natasha got drunk."

"She doesn't get drunk unless she's also suffering from blood loss and only people she trusts are around."

"I see. You know, as a doctor I absolutely cannot condone the drinking of large volumes of alcohol while suffering from blood loss?"

"Yeah I thought you'd say that."

"That's because you know I'm right."

"Yes but it does mean that I am the only person in the world ever, possibly apart from Bucky I don't even know, I don't touch their history with a barge pole. I wouldn't even shoot a grappling arrow at it or something to make that analogy even more messy, to see Natasha Romanoff under the influence of alcohol. It wasn't... I don't know. It's not something I'd try again. But I'm glad to have seen it, you know? I'm glad to have experienced it and I hold that secret as close in my heart as I can get it because she absolutely and without question deserves to know that it is safe with me. That she is safe with me. I would never betray her and that's not just because she would kill me in many many slow and inventive ways if I did."

"Well, that's fair enough I guess. I think that's good. I think you're a good friend to her."

"The thing is..." Clint sighed and shrugged, looking away, "She might not even kill me and in a way that's worse. Betrayal is part of this business. You make deals, you leave payments with people who are as untrustworthy as you are and hope that they will find a way to get you what you need, at least if you're running it alone like she and I both used to. You get used to it, you learn not to rely on it, to have several plans in place, and then... you take steps to dissuade people from fucking with you, like killing people who betray you when you get out of whatever situation they dropped you in. I don't even know if she'd kill me if I betrayed her. I think it might hurt her too much."

"I think you might be right..." Bruce agreed softly, "So how about we agree that you won't do that."

"I wasn't planning to."

"I know. Since you brought me tea, do you have time enough to stick around and make dinner with me?"

"Thanks but- actually that sounds really good. That sounds really really good. Thanks. Are you sure you and Pepper don't have plans?"

"She's out of town at the moment."

"So what are we making?"

"Well..." Bruce grinned, "I've been working on a recipe lately which I think you'll enjoy."

Clint raised his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Chicken nuggets. Or to be more accurate chicken nugget coating. And making fries. And onion rings."

"Are you, my older brother, my responsible, medically qualified older brother, suggesting a meal of deep frying everything?"

"Is that a no?"

"Hell no that sounds like a great idea. I'll go grab a couple more bottles of tea and be right back!"

Clint leapt off the sofa and headed for the door at full tilt doing some kind of weird movile victory dance.

Bruce shook his head, laughing as he watched him go, heading for the kitchen to start getting the spicing right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned how to make chicken nuggets myself while I was in Finland and I totally did make this meal (healthy as it is) with an amazing roasted garlic bbq sauce. The spicing I use for my chicken nuggets is salt, black pepper, paprika, ground coriander, and either garlic granules, or garlic salt instead of plain salt added to the flour. Try it, I swear it's good.


	38. Coulson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's quiet in the summer, and sometimes the best thing to refresh tired spirits isn't time at the beach in the sun and the sand, but a cup of tea with a friend somewhere cool.

Unlike most of the rest of New York, the tower was fairly empty at the moment. Tony had made arrangements for most of the team to head to the Hamptons on the grounds that it wouldn't have a hugely adverse effect on their response time if something drastic happened, and they were entitled to a holiday. As far as Tony was concerned, leaving the city for a while was practically compulsory, and Clint had jumped at the chance to head for the beach (though he would have felt more at home on the Jersey shore). He was pretty sure he'd find ways of fitting right in without trying too hard. 

The great thing was that Tony had rented the house for a whole month, and while most of them (mainly Tony and Clint) were staying there the whole time, the others were dropping in and out. Jane had come up to stay for a little while with Thor, who was loving the sun, surf and sand. Bruce hadn't believed the rumours about the god of thunder learning to surf until Tony had sent him some footage. 

Not everyone was inclined towards that kind of holiday though. Pepper was working too hard, Natasha wasn't keen on the sun (nor was Bucky hugely, though he had gone out for a week to get away from the city, just glad that it wasn't Jersey). Phil had been away from home more than he'd been around lately with everything that had been happening at SHIELD, but according to Clint, agent would be around later for a little while. Tony was laying bets on whether Phil would actually remove the suit. Bruce was pretty sure he'd take Clint's word over Tony's on that but he had to admit the mental image of Coulson on a sun lounger in what passed for his uniform was pretty amusing. 

Bruce was enjoying the chance to explore the city a little, happy to get lost in the sea of tourists without worrying too much about being discovered or seen. Sure, he didn't need to hide in the same way these days, but it paid to keep the instincts sharp and he preferred being able to blend in. While some of the city people left at this time of year, it was a tourist destination in itself, which meant that if anything there were more people around (although you wouldn't think it possible).

He'd found a new little tea shop, and decided to try one of their offerings. Apparently they imported it from a small company in the UK. There were quite a few teas that had sounded interesting, but the redbush earl grey had really piqued his fancy. Come winter he was planning on trying their spice blend, but it wasn't really the weather for that at the moment. Earl grey was always refreshing. He quite liked the sound of the company too. Tiger Spring. It was perhaps a little... cliche, but it was something that had a familiarity to it which he prized. One of the advantages of having travelled all over the world was that it was easy to feel at home almost anywhere, and to take that feeling from the smallest of cues. It wasn't about big gestures, it was always in the little things. 

He was just inhaling the scent from the teapot when he heard a knock at the door. It wasn't entirely unexpected - Natasha still dropped by (though rarely bothered knocking), he was fairly sure that Pepper was in meetings all day and that meant it was probably Bucky. Jarvis would have told him if any of the others were around. He was quite surprised to open the door and see Phil, looking exhausted but blessedly unruffled. Apparently in response to the surprise in his eyes, Phil shrugged and ran his fingers over the crisp fabric of his shirt.

"I got in last night, but I more or less passed straight out for the last fourteen hours or so. When I got up I had a shower and changed. That's why my clothes look distinctly better than the rest of me."

Bruce smiled and moved back to let him in. 

"I can understand that Phil... how are you doing?"

"Not too bad thank you, I think the tide is turning at long last. There's a chance we could win this." He paused for a moment, "No, chance be damned. We will win this. We have to. But it's a hard fight. We're stretched pretty thin."

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough. Do you have any tea?"

"I've just started a pot of redbush earl grey, would you like to try some?"

Phil blinked a little, then smiled.

"That sounds very interesting, thank you. I'd like that."

"So I suppose this whole war is rather putting a spanner in your plans to make my brother an honest man?"

"Your brother has never once been an honest man and that is a habit he's not going to break."

Bruce laughed. 

"Lying's one of the weapons in his arsenal people often forget about, it's true. But he's honest about the things that matter. He doesn't always have the words to be and sometimes he shows it in small actions which are really hard to interpret right, but he does show it. And something he's honest about is his feelings for you. He loves you. I know we did the shovel talk thing and I know I said I respected his agency and his choice too much to actually say something like that. I'm sure Natasha feels similarly. But if you hurt him I will see you pay for it in all the inventive ways my ethical code usually prevents me from considering."

Phil smiled.

"You know, so much of the time people worry about Stark going supervillain. SHIELD has contingency plans and everything. We have contingency plans for your other half, doctor, but none for you. I think people underestimate you. People underestimate the brain, because they automatically plan for the brainless, they forget how long you survived on the run and in how many countries. I'd be far more concerned about the potential ramifications of you deciding your ethical code no longer applied than I would about Tony's attempts to take over the world with a herd of robotic vacuum cleaners."

"Let's face it, if we go supervillain, we're probably going together."

"I don't know. If you go against SHIELD, you'll probably go together. I don't think that automatically means supervillain. Maybe staying on our side will make you a supervillain one day. Ethics are a fascinating thing to think about."

Bruce smiled and pushed a glass of tea towards him.

"That they are. You know your husband to be was in here recently forcing hugely sugared iced tea on me."

"Oh yeah? Everything he remembers fondly from his childhood involves sugar, I swear, other than you..."

"I think I can be pretty sweet sometimes. I didn't mind though. It was very kind. He's incredibly thoughtful."

"He is," Phil agreed, "People overlook that about him. People overlook a lot about Clint, actually, I think that's one of the reasons he's such a valuable asset. But he doesn't realise that."

"Clint overlooks himself a lot of the time. He's getting better about that but I don't think it wil ever change. He spent too long hearing the bad stuff to be able to see the good without it."

"He sees the good in other people though..." Phil took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his tea again and feeling some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders, "That's why he brought in Natasha rather than finishing the mission as he'd been briefed to. And I'm glad he did. I mean, we had some interesting discussions, but I am still glad he did."

"She's a wonderful woman," Bruce agreed with a soft smile, "And I am privileged to count her among my friends, I think."

"I agree," Phil's expression mirrored the doctor's, "I think it's one of the greatest privileges I've ever known. And I dread to think what would cost me that friendship. I know she doesn't make friends lightly or break those bonds without consideration. I'm sure if she decided I was no longer worthy I would have done something pretty heinous, in which case the least I could hope for would be a relatively quick and painless death."

Bruce chuckled and gestured towards the couch,

"Shall we sit?"

"That would be lovely, thank you. Where did you get this tea from again? It smells amazing."

"It's from a British company, a small one that blends their own. I'll give you the packet later if you'd like. I thought I'd try a few of their blends, but everything I've tried so far has been wonderful and I think I'll order from them again in future too. Even the shipping was reasonable, thanks to tea being something light."

"That's good to know... let me know which ones you like and then when Clint is panicking about what to get you for your birthday I can point him towards them?"

Bruce laughed softly and nodded.

"That sounds like a great idea, thank you."

"It's more painless if you can give him some guidance. Not that he's not enthusiastic."

"His taste isn't that bad... but even with the worst things the look on his face when he watches you open them... you can't help but be enthusiastic?"

"It would break his heart." Phil agreed, and the two of them sat for a moment in silence, sipping their tea and thinking. 

"I'm glad I ended up here. I'm glad all of us ended up here. None of us really have a basis in solid family but... it works."

"It does," Phil laughed a little, "It is practically the most dysfunctional family in existence but it does work and all of you know you can count on each other, which is the most important thing."

"I know that I... I wouldn't change a thing about who we are or how we are. Sometimes I think that less pain in the past is something I would try to fix but then none of us would be who we are. If there were a way of getting rid of those awful things without losing the personalities that resulted from the choices we had to make then I might do that. But the choices we make decide who we are and all our lives are a series of them. It depends what you believe but there are theories that every single decision we make results in a division of the universe, a creation of an alternate one where we took a different path. And... well, I don't know. The best blades are forged in fire and blood I hear, at least that's what the old stories used to say. Bull's blood, I think, but sometimes human was what was available."

"I've always wondered about the origins of things like that," Phil mused, "There aren't really stories like that about guns so much, at least not that I've heard."

Bruce smiled, "Guns haven't been around so long... and guns are simple. There's less of a fight for your life. Well, that's not strictly true. But it's at long range. There isn't the intimacy of a hand to hand fight, or an execution. You can't see the fire or determination or numbness in your adversary with a gun. You might depend on it for your life but you're rarely in a situation where your gun is the only thing you'll have. If you're in a battle, or in a war, you'll have other troops, you'll have medics and air support and armour... but it hasn't always been that way, and for a long time swords had mystical power because they wielded death. Guns do too but we're all a lot more sceptical these days."

"You'll rarely find a more superstitious bunch than those who face death daily." Phil replied with a shrug, and Bruce grinned wider.

"Well, given his job now and the fact that he was raised in a circus, I think it's a miracle Clint's not more superstitious than he is, don't you?"

"I'm actually fairly sure that half the time he's inventing new ones either to fuck with me or to get laid."

"So he's inventing new ones to fuck with you just in different senses of the term?"

Phil laughed and toasted Bruce with his glass.

"Exactly that."

Bruce returned the gesture, eyes dancing, and took another sip, letting the hot liquid slow down his throat. It soothed him. It was an interesting contrast, Earl Grey was always at the same time both warming and refreshing, cooling. It was bearable in the heat. Not really surprising, but still something he enjoyed most about it. Though he was grateful for Jarvis' ability to control the temperature inside. He was familiar with heat but in the city it made him feel like he was suffocating. 

"Mmmn..." he made an appreciative noise, "I think I'll be ordering some more of this one. I like it."

"If you do want some more, don't rush to order it. I'll let Clint know."

Bruce smiled,

"So I can expect some more in my stocking?"

"Something like that." Phil drained his glass in a long swallow. "You're right though, it's delicious. Maybe I should keep some in my office for the days when the coffee just isn't cutting it."

"People underestimate the value of tea in their day to day lives," Bruce grinned, "It's one of the principles I live by. It forces you to take time to do it right and that's something few people are willign to sacrifice in a busy day but it does slow the pace of your thoughts and I think that's a precious, precious thing."

"You sound like an evangelist."

"I guess I am, but then, it's one of the things that keeps me calm. If it works for me I see no reason why it wouldn't work for other people too." Bruce shrugged, easy when he joked about his alter-ego these days, "Besides, I learned a lot about it. People were generous to share their knowledge and their lore with me, teaching me their skills. Before they found out too much about me. It was something of value they had that they shared with me when they had very little else."

"That's why you keep doing this, huh?" Phil smiled, and paused, glancing at his watch, "You know, I have a little time, if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to learn some more from you. It's something happy in defiance of everything around me right now and I get the feeling it might come in useful."

Bruce smiled and lifted his collection onto the table, opening the lid of the box and inhaling with a happy sigh. 

"Well, I'll do my best. But beware. It's easy to become addicted."

"I'll be very careful," Phil replied solemnly, a twinkle in his eye as he leant over to study the range of bags carefully stored in different compartments, "So, where do we start..."


	39. Bucky

The weather was finally shifting away from the scorching heat and Bruce sighed with relief as the rains swept in. He always found it easier to think when it didn't feel like the entire atmosphere was pressing down and suffocating him. Rain nourished his soul in a way he couldn't explain. Part of it was practical, it removed the concern of being tracked, or at least lessened it, and it cooled everything down including him meaning he was harder to find with infrared technology too. It was also getting into the time of year again when tea would be even more of a pleasure than usual, a ritual, something to be savoured and something that warmed from the inside in a way that nothing else could, in defiance even of the weather itself. The year had been good, so far. Many important things had happened. It had flown by though, and he was happy to sit and gaze unseeing out over New York while he thought about everything and those he had come to know even better. Comparing this to where he had been a few years before... well, he was glad to be here, even if sometimes he chafed at the bit a little. More than anything he'd wanted safety, security, a home. He had those things here, it was just sometimes a little hard to believe.

He glanced up at the knock on the door, his glass of tea nestled in his hands, then turned his attention to the ceiling.

"Jarvis, would you mind letting whoever that is in please? Assuming it isn't the army and General Ross. I'm fairly sure they wouldn't knock so I'm quite safe in that assumption."

"It is Sergeant Barnes."

Bruce smiled, and reached for the teapot as Bucky made his way into the room. 

There was quite a change in him too. It was about a year since he'd first arrived, and nine months since they had tried to make it clear that he really was welcome here. Bucky didn't flinch at every noise anymore, or gaze around in perpetual fear of a blow as if he did not belong here, as if he had no right to trespass, to take up space, to walk on his own... it was a welcome change, even if it hadn't been easy in the coming. 

"Hey Bruce... that smells nice."

"It's something a little different, would you like to try it?"

"By a little different I'm assuming you don't mean laced with mind-altering substances and or sedatives that will allow you to alter my mind in other less trippy ways?"

Bruce chuckled softly at the brief grin Bucky flashed him. He wanted to share in the joke, and appreciated what it meant that Bucky could make it at all.

"No, nothing like that. It's a smoked tea, it's called lapsang souchong. It was the favourite tea of Prime Minister Winston Churchill, apparently. He led the British during the war."

"Yeah, I remember. Heard a lot when I was stationed over there, and Peg mentioned him sometimes. Reading up on the history after I think he did a pretty good job but I couldn't comment on the rest of it. I have a lot of history to catch up on and limited brain space. I have to choose what to retain."

"We all make choices like that, especially as the years go by."

"Ah, you see, advantage of the serum, I'm never going to have that problem. Never age, never die, even the brain heals in time. Part of how I've processed what I have but the memories are still there regardless and that complicates things."

"I'm not sure that means you have infinite storage space?"

"No but it means I have a lot of time to learn things that interest me if I want to."

"And what interests you?"

"A lot of things interest me. Always was interested in science but... well part of that's lost to me now. Too much potentially triggering stuff, too many memories. I've started looking at some basic physics and math courses though. That's pretty nice. And I like making things, doing things with my hands, training, I like that too. Learning my body and what it really can and can't do rather than what it can do when it's pushed to the limit and I'm not really in control. That's nice too. Like learning part of my new identity. I might not be Bucky, or Yasha or Asset or any of the many things that I've been called over the years but I like who I am anyway."

Bruce gazed at him over the rim of his glass, deep in thought for a moment as he took a sip. 

"I like him too."

Bucky paused for a moment and then nodded awkwardly, focussing into the bottom of his tea glass, unsure how to respond. 

"...How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Bruce asked, as blase as he could be in his response. It wouldn't do to be too pushy, too sharp in his answer. This worked because they kept it low key. He knew that, he knew how to keep the tone of a conversation light, to keep people talking, to guide them even when they didn't feel like discussing things and leave gaps that drew people to fill them. Open questions were important, and so was making it obvious that you were considering your responses. He treated everyone the same way, but with Bucky he took care never to push too hard. He was a friend, he was speaking with him as a friend, not as a professional, not as an enemy or an interrogator. He had no right to any information except that which Bucky decided to share with him and making it clear that Bucky was allowed to have those boundaries like that, helping him enforce them rather than pushing them was one of the most important parts of the relationship between them. 

"...Stay so calm. No offence but I know some of what happened to you. You've never kept it a secret from me and honestly I appreciate that. That's part of what's helped me feel more normal. Though I gotta say the proportion of this team that's been experimented on by governments various is way too high. We must seriously fuck with the national average."

Bruce smiled, still so happy that he could joke even when talking about the serious stuff. It had been one of the major milestones of his recovery when that dry sense of humour had come back. Steve had been a very entertaining combination of annoyed and ecstatic. He was overjoyed at the sign of healing, but the fact that it had come back to be directed at him was something he was less than keen on. It had, however, led to the beginnings of a worrying bond between Bucky and Tony in keeping Steve in line, and now there were two snipers over comms keeping a sarcastic running commentary on everything. Although Clint sang more than Bucky, and Bucky didn't proposition anyone during fights. Coulson had never been able to stop Clint doing that, and it had gotten to the point where he had stopped trying.

"I'm sorry if it crossed some kind of line but I looked at a couple of articles from the time and I... from everything you've said and everything that happened... I just... how have you found this much peace with yourself? I don't... get it. I wish I did."

Bruce set his tea down on the table and folded his hands, thinking. It was a serious question, a big question, and it deserved a serious and considered answer. He knew Bucky wouldn't rush him, particularly if he made it obvious that he was considering the problem at hand, and so he took his time.

"...A lot of it was finding a place, a purpose. The fact that for a long time that kept changing was hard, but then, the purpose started becoming the same all the time. I was terrified all the time, I felt like a suicide bomber, some kind of hostage in an action movie with an explosive vest. But I still made a difference. Small differences here and there. And I got better at control. The first milestone was when I accepted Hulk, I think, when I accepted this new part of me that I didn't choose. Fighting all the time was exhausting and it didn't help and being tired meant I was more likely to Hulk out. So that wasn't sustainable. I took up a martial art in Brazil. I started practising wherever I was, taking up the local martial art, learning discipline, learning control of my body, learning to control my breathing, my heart rate. I learned to control my mind too. A lot of that came through meditation. I was scared of it at first, scared of all the thoughts that it brought up, scared that if I relaxed then I'd lose the iron grip that was straining all the time and lash out and hurt people I'd come to care about and destroy the place that was my home. And I watched news reels. I learned about what happened when I lost control. I learned that he wasn't as destructive as people claimed, that there was a measure of control, that he protected people, saved some lives albeit at the cost of property and that... we started... working on a compromise. Accepting Hulk as a facet of myself... you can only improve yourself and your situation. When I acted like he was an external agent I had no control over, then I had no control over what he did and none over the situation. When I changed my way of thinking then we started getting along better. Now... well. Nowe we can even be part of a team." He allowed himself a little, self deprecating smile.

Bucky nodded, and Bruce noticed the man's gaze was fixed on the table. He tilted his head, watching for a moment, then gently nudged Bucky's knee with his own. 

"Hey... is that something you're struggling with?"

"I... yeah, sometimes. And I wish I wasn't. I mean... Natasha's been through it, Steve's been through it, you've been through it... so why can't I... function like you do?"

"Well, to be honest I think we'd all rather you didn't start functioning like Natasha. Coulson has made it very clear that he doesn't want to create any more lines of incident forms for specific agents. And I don't think you could pull off the outfits she wears, I'm sorry to disappoint."

Bucky looked up then, the grin back on his face as he tried and failed to suppress quiet laughter. 

"You don't huh? I'll have you know I look killer in sequins."

"I think the killer part is the problem." Bruce shot back, and Bucky threw his head back in mirth. 

"She seriously has her own set of forms? I did not know this, she did not tell me this, I feel betrayed."

"She has her own set of forms. It's not entirely her fault, to be fair, she just encounters more sexist bullshit than most, partially because of her reputation, the missions she runs, and what society dictates women who do those things should be like. And she looks soft and sexy and feminine and then you say something stupid or do something stupid or you say or do something stupid to another female agent in front of her and suddenly there's a new hole somewhere in your anatomy that wasn't put there by a professional piercer. People have actually spent quite long periods in medical recovering from underestimating the Black Widow. I think it's an unofficial training program."

Bucky looked a little uncertain, "I'm not sure I like that idea. That being said I'm also not sure Natasha isn't a professional piercer. I mean, she pierces people a lot of the time with a wide variety of things and gets paid for it. If that doesn't count then..."

Bruce smiled, but he shrugged at the other man's concern. He wasn't dismissing it, but there wasn't much he could say to ease it.

"For what it's worth, Coulson doesn't like it either, but I don't think Natasha minds. I know... it didn't bother her in the early days because it was what she was used to and these days... I think it doesn't bother her so much because she knows it isn't true. She's built up the confidence to know her own worth and her own value and that ignorant dickweasels aren't worth her time or energy. But she isn't willing to let views that could bring harm to others go unchallenged, she won't let people take liberties, and if there are men in this organisation she's an important part of who can't actually work with women on an egalitarian basis then she'd rather weed them out early and prevent the endangerment of lives in the field by people who think with their small heads rather than their big ones."

Bucky was watching him wide eyed, and slowly shaking his head.

Bruce blinked, unsure what he'd said wrong.

"Uh... I... think? Are you... what's wrong?"

"Of all the people in this tower, doc, I did not expect you to be the one I heard say dickweasels. I did not. I stand corrected. I stand very corrected. I underestimated you, I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Bruce laughed, nodding.

"I think I can do that. But I'm serious. I've... had a long time to work through what happened to me. You haven't had that time. Steve didn't have that time either but unlike you or me or Natasha he went through it once. He didn't go through it repeatedly and the consequences for him weren't... his hands aren't covered with blood the way yours or Natasha's or mine are. He doesn't have the deaths on his conscience that we do. He lost some friends, yes, but that was war. That wasn't peace and not having any other way to live. There's nothing wrong with you and you're not doing it wrong and I wish I had something more reassuring to say to you than that it will get better with time, but I don't."

"You mentioned meditation."

"Yeah. It's something that I find helps me. It goes alongside having control and mastery of your body but you have that."

Bucky barked a harsh laugh, "Well, someone does."

"And these days it's you," Bruce pressed the point firmly, "And it won't be anyone else."

Bucky shrugged and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not quite willing to confront that possibility just yet. 

"Yeah. Well. Think you could teach me?"

"Teach you what?"

"Meditation."

Bruce blinked. He hadn't expected that.

"...Sure, I don't see any reason why not?"

"Thanks." The brief flash of a smile was honest this time, real if fragile, and Bruce was glad to see it. He set his now empty glass down on the table and smiled.

"Shall we start now?"

Bucky blinked, taken aback. He hadn't expected things to move that quickly, but other than his own scepticism he could think of no reason to delay, so he shrugged, put his own glass aside and settled back, mirroring Bruce's pose.

"...Sure, why not."


	40. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's nice for friends to just spend time together

The seasons were finally beginning to shift from summer to autumn, and Bruce was glad of it. The city was still crowded, but the tourists tended to die down a little bit and the crowds thinned out. The leaves changed and there was a note of coolness in the air which was refreshing. He always felt like his thoughts were clearer at this time of year, though as it crept closer to winter he sometimes found himself missing the heat of some of the places he'd called home over the years. 

Still. Autumn was a time for tea, for warm blends with spice and fruit in them that heated from the inside out. The storms started up and the winds blew hair and leaves around indiscriminately. The trees were burnished auburn and gold and there was a hint of excitement in the air even now as people began anticipating all the holidays that were coming up. Of course, those things weren't always easy, especially for people who didn't have family, or the best memories of family, but the thing about living in the tower was that they had a whole new family. He couldn't wait to see what kind of chaos was going to happen around Thanksgiving this year. Last year had been pretty memorable but this year all bets were off. 

He wasn't staring out the window this time, when there was a knock at the door. Rather he was in his kitchen, working on a recipe he had been trying to perfect for a while. There would be plenty of occasions where buffet food would be called upon and he liked being able to bring something special to a potluck. Besides, even if this wasn't dinner tonight (he wasn't sure what the team's plans were), it wasn't like there weren't people in the tower who would happily eat it for him. There were two super soldiers, a god and Clint just for starters. Whatever dinner was likely to be, the tagine wasn't going to go to waste. 

There was a knock at the door. Fortunately he was at a stage where he could pause for a moment, so he washed his hands conscientiously and answered it with a smile. 

To his credit, Steve barely blinked at the bright green apron with the cartoonish angry face on it. It had been a present from Clint in the secret santa they did last year, and Bruce wore it with a kind of self-effacing humour. He had made his own peace with Hulk over the years, but seeing how willing other people were to accept him, even to tease a little rather than dancing around the subject made him feel so much more at ease. 

"I'm sorry Bruce, is now a bad time?"

"No, not at all. Come in. You can make the tea this time while I keep working on this recipe. Once it's in the oven I'll be able to be more sociable, but I hope you won't mind waiting?"

"That's not a problem at all." Steve smiled, and he was definitely a bit surer in himself than he had been last time he'd dropped by for a cup of tea. That was a relief. Bruce always liked seeing Steve happy. Not just Captain America, but actual Steve Rogers Steve. His youth tended to show in moments like that and it was nice to see that not everything of that had been stripped away from him by the things he'd experienced, the things he'd done and the things he'd seen.

"What are you making?"

Bruce blinked for a moment, then smiled. 

"It's a lamb tagine. It's like a Morroccan stew. It's best if it's cooked slowly, served with couscous, nice warm spicings to it too. It's rich and delicious."

"It sounds it. I don't suppose you need taste testers?"

Bruce laughed at the eagerness on Steve's face and nodded.

"I'm sure that would be very much appreciated. A noble gesture in the service of your country."

"Well it wouldn't do to put anyone else at risk of bad cooking if I can be of some service. Not that I believe any of your cooking will be bad."

"That's very kind. Can I do anything for you or is this just a social call?"

"Actually it's just a social call. I came down to see if you were interested in coming out with me some time. I thought I might go down to the park and do some sketching, I wasn't sure if you might like to come along? I'll buy you coffee afterwards to help warm you up again if that might sway your decision?"

"Actually that sounds really nice. When were you planning on going?"

"Does the weekend work for you?"

"The weekend sounds great. How about Saturday?"

"Perfect. Some time after lunch maybe?"

"And dependent on the weather." Bruce pointed out with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve just grinned and shrugged again.

"If it's raining I'll just drag you into the Met instead."

Bruce laughed and nodded. 

"Alright, sounds like a plan. So how've you been?"

"Honestly... better. I've been better. Than I was before, I mean. Not like, I've been better than I am now, although I probably have been, I mean... I'm fine. I mean I'm fine."

Bruce did his best not to laugh. He somehow was always relieved when it turned out that he and Tony weren't the only ones who could get spectacularly tongue-tied. Thor was never anything less than eloquent, in any language you cared to name, and words were yet another weapon Natasha was so skilled with. It could sometimes be a little worrying to work with someone who had effectively weaponised social skills when you had been on the run so long you had practically forgotten what they were, but really, he fitted in quite nicely. Tony's social skills veered from perfectly polished to non-existent, sometimes within the space of a few minutes, because the beauty of having to learn them perfectly was that the resultant position meant sometimes you could ignore them completely. Thor was the perfect Asgardian prince but despite Jane and Darcy's best efforts he hadn't quite got the hang of all the complicated parts of the Midgardian social dance as he called it. Clint was shamelessly trashy, and none of them would have had him any other way, and Steve was flawlessly polite, just several years out of date. 

"I'm glad. I am glad that you have been better, and indeed that you are better. Things settling down?"

"Yeah. I mean... Bucky's... still doing well, but I guess I've had more time to adjust to all of that. And what went down at SHIELD... well that was hard to hear, hard to process. I think it still kinda hurts. Maybe it wasn't meant to be personal but that kind of thing always feels like it is, especially when it's people I worked with, fought with, people who saved my life and whose lives I saved... it's never that simple though. But Phil's doing a great job and I'm just glad we found HYDRA before they could really do any damage. I know first hand what kind of damage they can do." His smile was a little self-conscious, but Bruce offered a casual shrug as he fetched the box of tea out from under the table. 

"I suppose I know... what would it be, third hand?"

Steve laughed, then, and Bruce's eyes danced. He was enjoying this. There was no pressure, no expectation to this conversation. It was just two team mates, two friends, enjoying each other's company. And it was always good for Steve to allow himself to actually act his age too. 

"I guess maybe. They weren't actually responsible for the serum's creation, at least not directly. I guess I can blame them for forcing the hand a little which meant I was fast tracked. Bucky knows first, first hand. Maybe I'm more second hand. That would make you third hand."

"Does that make Natasha second hand?"

"Probably." Steve smiled, shaking his head slightly as he took the glass Bruce pushed in his direction, "She's an amazing woman. I'm so glad she's on the team. I mean, I know that... well, we're looking at some new recruits. I don't know if you've heard much about them yet. Phil said they were found in a Hydra base out in a country called Sokovia but... I don't know much about them yet. And if they don't want to fight we're not going to make them but at least we can offer them somewhere safe. There are precious few places in the world safe for people who are different. I mean, New York is... well anyone can blend in here, but it's not perfect. It's a lot of things but it's not perfect. The X-men know it too, though I guess some of them have it worse than us. Even if you can hide... it's not the same. You feel like you have a responsibility to do more always. And it's hard to live with that every day. But I'm glad I woke up to this, I'm glad I woke up to all of you and to this team and... and to Bucky but I would have been happy to wake up to him no matter what. I'm glad about a lot of the things that have changed. Not everything. I don't think all of it's for the better, but I don't think we should go back. The only way is forward, ever. We don't have that choice. So we keep going forward and we keep improving as a species and I think that's all there is to it."

"No going back, huh? What if you take the wrong path?"

"Then the way back is still the way forward," Steve answered with a shrug, "I think maybe that's something that gets forgotten."

"You know you're pretty wise for a young man..." Bruce teased, and Steve chuckled, stretched.

"I've seen a lot in my time."

"That you have..." Bruce agreed, watching Steve carefully. The young man still seemed cheerful enough though, and he shrugged.

"I don't regret most of it," Steve shrugged, " I regret some of it but I can't change it. All I can say is it's changed me and I hope it's for the better. I kinda like the man I am today. I mean, I might as well. The man I am today is not the man I'll be tomorrow, but if I can be happy today then tomorrow doesn't matter all that much just yet. And I wouldn't have been able to do so many of the things I am now without you and the rest of the team. I don't think I realised I was so lost before because I couldn't see the wood for the trees and I was surrounded by so many trees. So many memories, so many fears, nightmares, so much loneliness. That's not the case any more I don't think it would be possible to be lonely living here even if I tried."

Bruce chuckled and clinked his glass of tea with Steve's.

"I'll drink to that. And I understand. I really do. I'm glad we're all here because it is so much nicer to be all together. What motivated you to invite me out sketching with you?"

"Well, you don't have to sketch. I mean, you're welcome to if you want. I thought you might like to read or something. And I'm not even planning to use you as a model. Though if you wouldn't mind and the pose strikes me right I might-"

"Steve I'm pretty sure you more or less have license to use anyone in this tower as a model these days. We're all pretty used to it. I mean, yeah you still need to ask because there might be bad moments, but as a general rule, we're expecting it."

"Hazard of living with an artist?" Steve joked, but he shrugged and continued in his explanation, "I just... I'd noticed that you really like this season. I mean, I do too. I have a lot of affection for all of them in different ways, though I have to say autumn tended to not set me up so well for winter with chest infections and stuff. But I feel like we don't always... do stuff with you. I mean, we don't always do that much stuff anyway. Lots as a team, but individual miniature group things within the team not so much and it's good for bonding. Also I like you and I like spending time with you and enjoy your company. I thought you might enjoy it, and... well, of everyone else in this tower I think you're the one who gets silence best. And silence is what I need for sketching, or quiet, at least, the chance to not have to engage and be alone in my own head. And I don't... get that with other people. But you understand. And I think you understand the value of companionable silence. I mean, Natasha gets it too, but she doesn't get it in a human way and I don't think she'd be interested in sitting on a park bench for hours, and she doesn't really like being in public when she can be recognised and there's always a chance with me. I mean, if you wouldn't be comfortable with that either I get it but I... companionable silence is a really nice thing. And I'd like to share some. With you. And be friends."

Bruce felt his heart warm a little. He hadn't heard a declaration like that in a while and whilst he knew that it was true and that they were all friends, and a dysfunctional family, the verbalisation of somebody actively wanting to spend time with him was a really nice one. He loved seeing them all at different times, he really enjoyed listening and sharing tea and helping with their problems. He also knew, and was frequently reminded that he was so much more to all of them than that. They never forgot to invite him to dinner, and he received more spontaneous little gifts than he'd ever dreamed possible. But this was still something special and it made him happy in a way he hadn't realised he could be before. 

"Thanks. I would like that a lot. I'll look forward to Saturday and I'll be sure to block out my calendar. I'll buy you a hot dog in the park?"

"Nah, Saturday's my treat, thank you. Maybe some time you could take me to the Natural History Museum or something and I can sketch there while you look at all the interesting stuff and teach me all about it and that can be your treat?"

"Sounds like a great idea. I look forward to it."

Bruce's smile was soft now, as he admired the way the setting sun made Steve's hair burn gold. 

"I really appreciate it. Thank you. It's a really nice idea and I'm flattered you thought of me. I think... a long time ago I would have assumed that you were asking me out of pity or out of charity. I mean, don't get me wrong I would still have been grateful. For a long time pity or charity were entirely responsible for my human contact. But... it's nice, to feel like a person again."

"You do a lot for all of us. And this isn't to pay you back or something because... well I hope it's not a job, anyway, I would think that between being an Avenger and the research you do you really don't need another job."

"And doctoring you."

Steve grinned and finished his tea, setting the glass down carefully. It wasn't as exaggerated as his movements often were when he was upset and wary of breaking things or making things worse somehow. Bruce always preferred it when Steve wasn't so overly careful. Sometimes there were accidents but that was a small price to pay for actual comfort for a friend.

"Yeah, and doctoring us. We don't make it easy."

"Some of you are more cooperative than others."

"I hope you're including me in that?"

Bruce smiled and finished his own tea, nodding as he set his glass next to Steve's.

"Yes, I am. You're cooperative. Phil is cooperative. Natasha is cooperative if she agrees that any kind of treatment is necessary but progress is being made on that front. At least if she gives in to needing treatment she doesn't fight it. I'm not sure how much of that is down to Coulson's bribery though. I don't like to think about that too much. I won't lie, it's effective, but it is a little like watching two children in competition with her and Clint. Even when it's me Clint doesn't like being treated, and to be honest if I ever find the people who are responsible for that there will be trouble because there's a lot more to it than just the fear of the insurance premiums, I'm sure there is. Thor rarely needs it and if he does I'm not qualified to supply it, and Tony's as bad as Clint some days. Bucky doesn't need it thank god. If he's out in the field with us more often I think things could be awkward but hopefully he and I have a good enough relationship that we'll be able to muddle throuhg it even if it gets a little triggering. At least if it is triggering I can speak German and Russian hopefully enough to at least calm him down."

"You're very practically minded sometimes..."

Bruce shrugged, "I don't like thinking about it and part of me hates the idea of exploiting conditioning that was enforced on him but if he's hurt and scared and there's a part of that that can get beneath the hurt and fear or the confusion or the disorientation then I will use it to help him be safer and to manage the situation. I'm not going to apologise for that."

"I don't think you should. Doesn't mean I have to like thinking about it though."

Bruce's smile was gentle, sympathetic, and he shrugged again.

"No, it doesn't. But as the leader don't you think about that kind of thing all the time? Worst case scenarios and how to manage each of us if something goes wrong or someone gets inside our heads?"

"I do... but not all the time. I need some down time too. That's why I sketch. That's why I invited you to the park and why I go for runs in the morning and why I'm starting to get a name for myself down at the courts playing basketball. I practice chess with the old guys in the park and I'm looking into volunteering a little more with my time and I don't do all these things in the suit. Even SHIELD doesn't eat up as much of my time as it used to since technically it's fallen a little bit apart and the bureaucracy is a little broken, much to Phil's disappointment. We might be in the middle of a quiet war but life goes on and doing normal things helps me remember why we do what we do, to preserve that normality for the people who never realise that it was under threat."

"It's a heavy burden for anyone to carry, and may I say, Steve, I think you do it with maturity and grace beyond your years. I'm proud to call you my friend, and I'm proud to serve with you and that's not something I ever thought I'd say."

"I appreciate it..." Steve's smile was a little brittle, and he raised and lowered one shoulder in a lop-sided shrug, "I'd offer a salute but you're not a serviceman, and I don't think it's your or Hulk's kind of thing."

"It's not," Bruce confirmed, "But I appreciate the thought... how about a handshake instead?"

Steve's smile as it lit up the room was as warm as the setting sun and he held out his hand.

"A handshake I can do, Bruce. See you Saturday?"

Bruce shook it, firm and warm, smiling in return.

"See you Saturday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to pre-write next month's chapter because I'm doing NaNo again, wish me luck!


	41. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday season isn't always easy for some people. Fortunately Bruce knows how to remind Clint that the cookie cutter mould isn't always necessary.

The thing with November was that the year really started to feel like it was picking up steam, rolling on down hill towards Thanksgiving, through Christmas and into the New Year. It was when last minute preparations (that only counted as last minute for those who were organised) started coming into play. There were lists, countdowns, calendars, posting dates and everything else to bear in mind. It was a little much, to be honest. The momentum of it all always made Bruce feel a little sad, like things were moving too fast to enjoy them because there were too many plates to keep spinning and balls to keep in the air to run the holidays successfully. He knew that was a little over the top, that it never really went that way and the days themselves were always wonderful. But the holiday season could be difficult. After so much went into it it was normal to feel a little like a deflated balloon. It was particularly difficult considering that most of them had quite complicated feelings around the holidays anyway. 

Pumpkin spice and scarves were everywhere, all the leaves were off the trees, and the number of turkeys in the shops was beginning to reach ridiculous levels. He had to agree that if you had the freezer space, some of the deals they had for Thanksgiving and Christmas were a pretty good combination though. 

This year for Thanksgiving they had decided to organise a potluck with friends. The tower was more than big enough to host everyone and it had a different feel to it than all the pressures that went into organising the lunch in one kitchen by one person. The list of dishes had been drawn up and agreed upon and it worked because those who were able to cook got the more difficult dishes, and those who weren't allowed in a kitchen unsupervised ever got easier things, and all the most important flavours of the feast would be there. However he felt about the holiday itself, Bruce was still looking forward to spending time with his friends. If it was meant to be a family occasion then he was pretty sure chosen family should count double. Pepper was even clearing her schedule so she would be able to share the holiday with them, and that meant a lot. What meant even more was that Tony had somehow, probably a way involving an obscene amount of money, been able to get them out of having to appear in the Thanksgiving day parade. It was a great tradition that they all loved to watch, but actually it was nicer to be able to stay inside and gorge themselves stupid together. 

Besides, Bruce was pretty sure that Clint had drawn up a drinking game. 

He wasn't sure how that was going to go, but he was looking forward to it anyway. And he had heard rumours that Darcy was already forming fiendish plans regarding decorations. That seemed likely given what she'd done to the place for Hallowe'en, and Bruce was pretty sure that the bots at least would go along with whatever she had planned. He was less sure about the rest of the tower, but much like her mysterious power over Clint and Natasha, he was pretty sure Jarvis had great affection for her too. He could understand that. He liked Darcy. 

A banging in the vents above his head announced Clint's arrival. Apparently he wasn't even going to bother with the door this time, though at least the fact that he was bothering to make noise showed that he wanted Bruce to know he was there. Even when he was in a hurry Clint's ability to move silently through the vent was truly impressive.

The banging stopped and there was a pause. Bruce glanced up at the ceiling expectantly.

"Hello?" Clint called hesitantly, and Bruce rolled his eyes slightly, unable to resist smiling as he continued watching the grating.

"Hello."

"You busy?"

"No, as you can see, I'm not busy."

"You might not want company."

"Clint you're always welcome but please get out of my ceiling and come sit on the couch like a civilised human being."

"Why should I break the habits of a lifetime?"

Clint shot back, but he emerged, feet first, landing on the couch with a soft thump and a big grin.

"Because I have really comfy couches and I get nervy when I think people are following me."

"But you knew it was me," Clint pointed out with a grin, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

Bruce paused momentarily and then explained in the most patient tone he could muster.

"Yes, that's true, but the heart does not always overrule the head, so knowing it's you does not change my spidey senses tingling and when those senses start tingling my skin starts feeling small and I tend to start turning a little green."

"Aww but I like Hulk!"

"I know you like Hulk. Hulk likes you too. Hulk thinks you are the best little brother in the world. And a great teddy bear to boot. But I do not need to Hulk out in here, so if you want to hang out in my ceiling either do it silently or let me know you're doing it. The latter is always the better choice. I'm not always going to make you come down. Sometimes I'll just pass you a blanket and some tea if you're feeling depressed and you don't want to be near near anyone but you want to be near someone. That's fine. I'm not going to make you interact with me, but at the same time I have to lay down a boundary about not just chilling randomly in my ceiling because it makes me nervous."

Clint nodded slowly, "I understand. I promise I'll let you know. But thanks for understanding that I might just need to be around you sometimes. You're my big brother and you feel safe and you're not the same as Phil or Tasha and sometimes you're what I need. I'm just not that goodwith words is all."

Bruce smiled and reached out, pulling him into a hug.

"Yeah, I know. I'm your big brother, remember?"

Clint laughed and nodded, bu the smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he shifted back in his seat and Bruce frowned. He didn't pounce on it straight away - Clint never responded well to that sort of thing and Bruce knew just how to make it come out in conversation - but instead he reached for the biscuit tin he kept under the table.

"Here, how about I make us some tea and you have a biscuit? They need eating, you'd be doing me a favour."

Both of them knew that wasn't strictly true but it gave Clint an excuse to indulge without feeling bad and Bruce liked seeing him enjoying himself. He still had some issues around food, which wasn't really surprising, but meant that the occasional suggestion was helpful in getting over the barrier.

"Ooh hey these ones smell great, what are these?" The end of the sentence was muffled as Clint bit into one and Bruce laughed as he flicked the switch on the kettle to set it going.

"They're ginger. I love the heat in them, I think it's great for this time of year. It's hard to feel cold when you're eating things like that. I start bringing the spice in at this time of year. I've got this new tea that Pepper brought me back from her last business trip, it's a blend from a specific city in Germany. Sounds really nice, would you like to try some with me?"

"Yeah! I mean... if you're sure? You don't have to open it just for me, I wouldn't want to be a bother or anything."

"You're not a bother, Clint. I was going to open it anyway and I'd love to share it with you."

"Thanks Bruce."

Bruce smiled and poured the water into the pot, letting the tea settle to brew as he pushed the bright purple glass towards Clint. 

"So, are you looking forward to the holidays?"

"Yeah!" There was the slightest pause, the slightest hesitation before that reply and Bruce knew Clint's tells better than anyone's. 

He deliberately broke eye contact as he reached under the table to pull out a different tin which was full of a flapjack Bucky had dropped by earlier that day, taking the focus off Clint, making everything casual. 

"Yeah, it should be good. I think we've had replies back from most people right? It's practically going to be a full house, and given the size of the tower that's no mean feat. It'll be nice to see Jen again, and Carol and Drew are both coming. Rhodey'll be in town, Sam said he'll come, Luke and Jess and Danni, I think Danny too. I don't know who else for sure, but I think it'll be a lot of fun. Takes the pressure off the cooking too. It'll be interesting to see how it goes this year, given that it was a little overshadowed last year by other events."

He pulled the lid off the tin and proffered it to Clint, smiling as his brother took one before glancing up again. 

"...Yeah... did I... did I do it wrong last year?"

Whatever Bruce had been expecting, it wasn't that, and he blinked a few times trying to process what Clint had said. 

"I- what? No! What do you even mean by that?"

"Well I took on responsibility for it last year but... I dunno, did I mess it up? I mean, it's not like I had a lot to draw on in terms of personal experience but I worked really hard on the research and I put a lot of effort into timing everything right on the day and making people happy... I know it didn't... I know it didn't go so well. I really... I know that. But I really tried and since I know what went wrong last year I know how to make everything go right this year but I'm not getting the chance to. And it just makes me feel... like a fuck up. I mean, I know I'm a fuck up. But more of a fuck up. Because we haven't... we're family, right? We're the only family any of us have because this is a fucked up team and we're all... yeah. I wanted to make it a good family and make good memories and Thor hasn't really had a proper family Thanksgiving and nor has Tasha because the closest she's known has been in the SHIELD canteen and that's not the same. And I mean, I haven't either, but I know a lot more about it and knowing what it sohuld be like.. I wanted to make sure it was the best possible time for everyone and I-"

Bruce actually raised a hand to cut him off in mid-stream, gazing at him and slowly shaking his head in gentle incredulity.

"Clint... you did an amazing job last year. You did. Really. I'm not just saying that. It was fantastic, it really was. The food was great, the games were great and everyone had a wonderful time and I'm not sure why you think it was a disaster. I mean, okay, not everything went perfectly to plan but the beauty of real life and actual family holidays is that nothing ever does and you always have to improvise and it's the things that go wrong and let you laugh together that actually help build memories and traditions and running jokes in and of themselves. They're a bonding experience and a good thing. The thing is that... well, you didn't seem to be enjoying yourself so much last year. And that's not surprising given how much work you put into it and how much stress and responsibility you took on. You didn't have to do that but you chose to and that was incredibly selfless and kind of you. But we want you to be able to relax and enjoy yourself too which is where the idea of having the potluck came from. You can still make your amazing food and still suggest games to play but you're not responsible for feeding or entertaining everyone and we all get to spend some time with friends and family and generally bond. It wasn't meant to be a rejection of everything you achieved last year and I'm genuinely so sorry that it came across that way. None of us meant it like that, I promise."

Clint looked uncertain, and Bruce wished there was something he could say that could convince him, that could let Clint know he was loved and valued, and that whatever he imagined had possibly gone wrong last year to the extent of the others not wanting him to do it this year, not believing that he could... Bruce wished there was some magic word to undo it, but there wasn't.

The sniper offered a half hearted shrug.

"It's real kind of you to say all of that, you know? But you don't have to. You can tell me the truth. I mean, you're my brother, you're family... I can take it from you. It's okay."

Bruce stared, and sputtered for a moment, shaking his head. 

"Clint..." the best he could do, the only thing he could do, was try to repeat some of it in the hopes that it might sink in, "I mean it. You did an amazing job. It was the best Thanksgiving I've ever had. It felt wonderful, and I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. I mean, other than Christmas. We celebrate holidays together, as a family, and the way we celebrate holidays is a lot like us. It's kinda wacky and it's never going to be perfect and there's always going to be a bit that falls off somewhere. Please don't tell Bucky I said that. But I mean it, it was perfect. It was exactly what we need it to be, and it's like... you know how all those romantic relationships you see idealised and portrayed in books and movies and stuff and how most of them is bullshit because there's no right way to have a relationship if it's right for you. Obviously abuse doesn't count. What I mean is... what matters is that it was right for us. And what you did last year was amazing. The food was some of the best I've eaten, and I know that if you had your heart set on this cookie cutter stereotypical absolutely perfect in every way celebration you probably were disappointed. But nobody else was. I promise. Hulk promises too. He thought last year was the best and he thinks you're the best too and he's so proud of you. What's right for 'everyone' usually is only right for a small subset of the population and not doing it like that doesn't mean we're doing it wrong. We're just doing it our way. There's nothing wrong with that."

Clint looked a little reassured, but he ducked his head and kicked his feet a little like an embarrassed schoolboy. It sometimes surprised Bruce to see these childish behaviours, but then, Clint had never really had the chance to grow up properly in some respects. In others, of course, he'd grown up far too soon but there was no changing that now and Bruce wouldn't have had him any other way. He was pretty damn sure the rest of the team agreed. 

"So... you seriously mean that nobody's mad I fucked up last year?" Clint asked again, wanting to be absolutely sure. 

"...Yes. Yes that's exactly what I mean. I mean it because you didn't fuck up but I also mean it because nobody's mad so you're right. Nobody is mad at you. We were all really impressed and really grateful and we had a great time. But we want you to be able to relax and have a great time too and if that means that we invite a few more people and ask them to bring a dish then you don't have to shoulder responsibility for everything and we get to share the holiday with friends. To me that feels like a win win situation. Can you see where I'm coming from?" Bruce's tone was gentle, so were his eyes as he focussed his attention on Clint now, able to do that without risking the younger man clamming up and refusing to speak. Once the floodgates were opened it was generally okay, it was just that sometimes you had to pry them open with a crowbar. It was an unfortunate side effect of having spent years of your life being told you didn't matter. 

Clint nodded, and he looked a little more certain of himself now. In fact there was even the beginning of a really tentative smile as he looked up at Bruce again, glanced back at the tea and the table, then met Bruce's eyes.

"...So can I have another cookie?"

Bruce laughed and held the tin out to him, shaking his head slightly. 

"Yes, Clint. Yes you can have another cookie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not American and although I did some research I know very little about Thanksgiving so please don't yell at me if I got too much wrong (I do have fond memories of the Macy's parade from living in NYC though!)


	42. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festive season isn't always easy for everyone, but struggling to enjoy the cookie cutter scenes does not mean there is anything wrong with you.

The tower was still bedecked with decorations (in all shades of the rainbow. Bruce hadn't even known that Christmas decorations came in that range of colours.) and the winter had well and truly bitten outside. He still liked this time of year almost more than any other and the peace and stillness he always felt with the snow on the ground outside and piled up on his windowsills. 

The living room was starting to feel even more like home now and even though he left the rooms to work, coming home was one of his favourite things. Bucky had helped him redesign it all, and shift things around. The man had even built him a unit that ran along under the windows. It was in dark wood which had been lovingly sanded and polished. Bruce now had a space to set out his tea collection and some of his books. It was functional and beautiful, and now he hardly wanted to leave at all. The installation of cushions along the top of it to make a space where he could simply sit and gaze out at the world only made it sweeter still. He was lost in that, while the steam from his lavender earl grey drifted up and tickled his nose, when a soft knock sounded at the door. 

He rose reluctantly, with a parting glance to the window, setting his glass down on the table by the teapot as he crossed the room to the door. 

"Good afternoon Agent Romanoff," he smiled as he stood aside to let her in, glad to see her again. 

"Good afternoon Doctor Banner. I hope I am not interrupting."

"Not at all. It is always a pleasure to see you. Please sit down. I just made a pot of some rather special lavender earl grey, would you like a cup?"

She nodded, glancing around and making herself comfortable tucked up in the corner of a sofa, visibly relaxing as he handed her the glass and she took and savoured a sip of it. 

"Oh, this is good."

"It is, isn't it... I was just admiring the weather outside. It makes the city rather different, don't you think?"

"Things sound different in the snow. Sounds are muffled, things are bright. People are silhouettes until they get close, and shots are much harder to judge. Or so the snipers tell me."

She made remarks like that always without meeting his eyes, and he never forced it on her. Rather, he treated them as the confidences they were, and never brought them up again uninvited.

"I hope you don't mind my coming. I know you say that you never do but I am so aware that this is your sanctuary. Sometimes it feels like an invasion, and I would hate to inconvenience you."

"You're not invading anything. It is a sanctuary, but it is a sanctuary that is open to others and I would hate it if you felt unwelcome. Please believe me when I say I'm glad to have you here. Is there... anything in particular you're seeking sanctuary from, or...?"   
He left the question open, knowing that it was personal and that she might well chose not to answer it. He could not blame her if she didn't. 

"...This," she gestured around, "Not in here but... everywhere else. It is a little... initimidating. This season is full of images that tell us what we are supposed to be, what we are supposed to want, how we are supposed to act, and I feel nothing for any of these things. I know that here I do not have to conform, to lie, to act like that. But it is still a little... overwhelming. It means so much to Clint but this was not part of my upbringing. Religion was not something that was practised around us, and besides, the Orthodox traditions are different as you know. I understand intellectually but spiritually, emotionally I feel nothing and that is hard to process. I feel... yet again I feel like there is something wrong with me, for not understanding. For not conforming or participating. It is a much more subtle form of brainwashing than I was subjected to before but... that does not make it more tolerable."

Bruce paused, considering, as he always did with Natasha, the best course of action with respect to answering whatever was bothering her. He never rushed his answers, but rather preferred to take the time to think about the problem and phrase the answer as well as he could. 

"...I don't... think there's anything wrong with you. It's not that I don't celebrate Christmas as such but... well, I was never really a Christian, so there's no connection with the religious aspect for me. The foster family who treated me so well, it was important for them, and I can understand why it matters so much to Clint too. It's something he never had but it's something he wanted. He wanted to belong to a family and the gestures of love and especially as a child it is hard not to be jealous of the toys other children receive and what they stand for."

"Thor understands Yule and what lies beneath it because the origins of this festival are very ancient indeed. Basically it's a fundamental part of human nature to need something to interrupt the long dark days, something to bring the sun back. There was Yule, Saturnalia, Solstice... Chanukah, Christmas... it's all about this time of year. There's Kwanzaa too, but that was motivated by different forces. I don't think that whatever originally motivated holds much power these days in the force of our electricity and running water, the central heating and all the defences we have which have taken away that fear of the cold and dark and what lurks within it."

He allowed himself a small smile and a shrug,

"Besides, even for those who practise Christmas, it is rarely so happy as it seems in movies or other aspects of culture. There is no miraculous healing power of it to bring people together or mend relationships, those who treat others badly do not miraculously treat them better, even on the day itself let alone for the rest of the year. The sweeping changes that we envisage never seem to come to anything in reality. It makes good television, it makes good movies... but there are so many who don't feel that spirit and never have. Society and our culture tells them that they're broken because of that but they're not. I don't think less of you because this isn't your kind ofthing. It's not mine so much either. But I look on it as a time that I want to make about friends, and about this family, and about those who are in need. So while the decorations and the traditional traditions and the endless music and movies and commercial and materialistic pressures are completely alien to me and in fact have been known to make me feel worse... I like what we do here."

Natasha gave a sharp nod, having listened to every word of his explanation, considering them in turn. Natasha knew how to listen, much as Bruce did himself, and the conversations they shared were often on another level to those with other people. Not to say they were better or worse, but they were, quite definitely, different. 

She took another sip of her tea while she formulated her own response, and Bruce pulled out the obligatory cookie tin, full of Clint's latest festive baked offerings, to fill the silence. 

He munched on a chocolate chip cookie that was beautifully sweet with brown sugar, and savoured how it cut through the sharpness of the bergamot in the tea while he waited for Natasha's response. 

"I suppose, at the most fundamental level then, that you have answered the question that was troubling me worst of all. You do not think I am broken because of this... distaste?"

"No. I don't."

"I know they broke... many things about me. I know I will never function normally, think normally, understand the troubles of emotion that seem to cause such turmoil for so many. But I wondered if this was yet another thing to add to the laundry list of defects they installed in me to make me a good spy. There was no space for sentimentalism."

Bruce shrugged, proffering the tin. 

"Not liking or enjoying the over the top sentimentality of Christmas doesn't make you any less human. I don't think that it's a symptom of any kind of flaw. I'm not going to tell you that it's not related to your childhood and how you grew up, but I'm not going to tell you that's all it was. There are a lot of reasons not to like this time of year, just as many as there are to like it, and you are not wrong for how you feel about it."

Natasha nodded, her expression carefully blank, but receptive.

"I trusted your opinion. I did not want to bring it up with Clint, he... he takes so much about this time of year personally and he tries so hard to make it jolly, to... well, Phil says he tries too hard but I don't blame him. We cope with our pasts in different ways and while I suppress so much, he rather... he acts and blusters, he is so extroverted it can be quite tiring but I would never hold it against him."

"I am flattered that you trusted my opinion. Thank you. I hope I was able to put your mind at rest a little on the subject?"

"You were. You frequently do. So I do not need to... I am not a grinch if I do not participate fully?"

"No." He was smiling, "Was that Clint's expression?"

"Yes." She was hiding a smile now, and for it to be so obvious, Bruce knew that he was meant to see it. 

"You're not a grinch. Are there parts of it you do like?"

"Some of the songs. Not the... piped crap in the stores. The other songs. Those for choirs and lone voices that recall cold and snow. They speak to me. And the mulled cider and wine I enjoy. I like drinking, and the spices do warm the soul. It's preferable to pumpkin spice. I do not understand the hype, but then, I rarely do. Such things do not make sense to me."

Bruce chuckled, and offered her another cookie. 

"They don't make sense to me either, but maybe we can be confused together? And I have a great recipe for mulled wine from scratch if you would like to try it?"

She smiled back, and it was real and bright now, a light dancing in those piercing green eyes. 

"Am I allowed to spike it with something interesting?"

The idea startled a bark of laughter from him, and she looked pleased. 

"I think between us, yes. But let's not warn the others. They'll have it coming if they steal any that way."

"I knew I liked you, Doctor. I had never thought I would find such a kindred spirit."

He was on his feet now, halfway to the kitchen to find the recipe, but he paused then to over a courtly bow. 

"From you, Lady Romanoff, I take that as the greatest of compliments."

"I am no lady, Doctor Banner."

"I think you can be anything you want to be. Besides, being a lady is like being powerful, if you have to tell someone you are, you aren't. And you have never had to tell me."

She mused on that for a moment, stretching as she stood. 

"I suppose you are right. but do not tell Clint, he will never let me hear the end of it."

"Let's circumvent that by getting him drunk off his ass and seeing what happens?" Bruce suggested, and the wicked grin was back. 

"Agreed, my good Doctor, agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I'm sorry this month's chapter is so late, but I got it in in time and I hope you feel like we finished the year in style! Thank you all so much for all your support and comments over the year, I hope the bonus fics have enhanced the world and given you a few moments of calm and smiles throughout 2015. Welcome to all new readers. At some point in the new year we will be moving into part two of this universe which has grown so much more than I ever anticipated, but don't worry, I still have ideas. As long as I still have ideas, and you still want to read them, this is something I plan to continue. There's just so much more to explore! This started as a character study, and I hope that it's still a character driven work, but more than anything, I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it. 
> 
> Thank you.


	43. Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the new year begins, Bruce and Pepper are in for a big change in their relationship.
> 
> Thanks to flightinflame for beta-reading faithfully as ever.

Things had quietened down after Christmas, and Bruce could appreciate why the period of time between Christmas and new year sometimes won the title of the Dead Days. Nothing much was happening, the excitement of the festival was mostly deflated... it was still the twelve days of Christmas, of course, which people often overlooked, but nothing really went on. Sometimes people looked back over the old year and started thinking about what they wanted to change in the next one, other times people were way too busy recovering from food comas by staying very still to think. It was a time of year when people were allowed not to think. 

He and Pepper had made the most of it to get some time together, and it had certainly paid off. It was so nice to be able to really enjoy each other's company without worrying about when she had to fly off somewhere or what time she had to be up in the morning or sudden schedule changes with investors who were too arrogant to put off. He could take it all in stride and lose himself in his work easily enough but it was still precious when they had time together that was completely uninterrupted. It was Stark company policy to give everyone that week off, and since enough other people took the attitude that it wasn't a time for working but a time for eating and sleeping, Pepper felt like she could justify a proper break too. Besides, Bruce had made it clear quite how important it was to have proper break times. 

Still, it had rather taken Bruce by surprise when she had settled down with him with the sky an uncompromising iron grey outside the window, and cuddled into his lap. 

He kissed her forehead, an arm resting around her waist, fingers working on the knots in the small of her back. 

"Bruce..." she began softly, and he smiled, nuzzling into her hair. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I... I need to talk to you. About something. And now seems like as good a time as any because we're not rushed and... well I guess it's symbolic to talk about things like this at the start of a new year. New year, new start, right? Or something like that. I know new starts can be at any time. But I think I like it being now."

"Oh?" He shifted back a little, still rubbing idly with that hand but wanting to make eye contact, to show that he was alert to whatever she needed to say. 

She glanced up for a moment, then nodded. 

"And... I won't pretend I'm not a little bit scared. Well, a lot scared, actually. It's a scary thing. But I'm excited too. I think. I'm pretty sure." She took a deep breath, "I... did a test. Then I did another test. Then I did another test. Then I asked Jarvis to run a quick scan and... well, it looks like... I'm pregnant. So... I mean, he said it was fine. Healthy. Normal, that kind of thing..." She trailed off, unsure what to say. She loved Bruce, and she trusted him, and she was pretty damn sure that he would be happy about the news. She was too, mostly. It wasn't something she'd thought too much about before but... she knew she was in a unique position where it was unlikely to impact on her career. She could ask Bruce - he was so much more of a natural parent, really, and... well, it all depended on how he reacted, what he wanted. She didn't know how she felt with any kind of certainty but curled up here, with him, his heartbeat steady against her ear, she felt like maybe this was possible.

He was staring at her, his dark eyes wide and shining, and his fingers touched her cheek like she was the most beautiful, incredible, fragile thing in the universe. Of course, at that point, as far as he was concerned, she more or less was. 

"...You-"

She nodded, "I'm sure of it. Really sure. I needed to be really sure."

He nodded, not speaking for another moment, then smiled. The curvature of his lips was slow, tentative, but there. He nodded again. 

"...And how do you feel about it?"

"I'm not sure. I know I'm meant to be happy. And I am. But it's terrifying. We weren't planning for this, we haven't talked about it, I have so much to do... I-"

"I will support you, no matter what your decision is. It's as simple as that. I would love to have a child with you, to be even more of a family with you than we already are. But it's your body and it is not an easy process, emotionally, mentally, physically... none of those things. And so I want you to know that I will support you, no matter what, with no hesitation. It's your choice. I will never hold it against you."

"I think I want this. I mean, I've been thinking about it a lot over the last few days. I haven't really been doing much apart from thinking. Because children haven't been on my radar for a long time. There were idle thoughts when I was younger but then I started working and, well, quite frankly Tony was enough of a child and I never had enough time to date, and then I was dating Tony and we all know how that worked out and now... with you... well, it just never came up again? I'm so busy all the time that... I just didn't think of it, and now it's a reality. But with you... I think it's possible with you. But there are so many things that it could mean that sometimes it's hard not to be terrified and want it all to go away."

He stroked her hair back gently, listening. It was always important to listen in any relationship. When he was sure she had finished, he asked the next obvious question.

"What sort of things could it mean?"

"That I have to lose my job? Or that I lose my ability to work so efficiently or perform at the level I need to be at? Or... there's... a lot of judgement, attached to this sort of thing, for women. And there are some female CEOs who continue to kick ass and work after having children and they go part time and they're just as good at their jobs as they always have been, and I'm sure I could do that it's just... there's a lot of media attention on me, all the time. There always has been. Most of them don't get that same level of direct scrutiny but Stark Industries... well, the company CEO always has a history of being a major media figure. And that is one of the things which I have to say is not entirely Tony's fault. He played to it, but he didn't create it."

"I'm not..." Bruce hesitated, taking his time to order his thoughts, order his words, because this was important, "I'm not asking you to lose your job. Or even to change it. I know there will have to be some changes in the short term because your job is barely sustainable as it is and with the pregnancy it definitely won't be. In the long term, though, there's nothing to say that you have to do less or be less or change. I'm happy to take on the lion's share of the parenting. I don't mind changing things around and being a stay at home father. I'd enjoy that, and it wouldn't stop me working anyway because I can easily take time to read or write papers, and there is a whole legion of babysitters in the tower who would be happy to help us out if we need it. When we need it. We'll need it."

She smiled a little at the gradual shift in perspective there as reality crept into his eyes, and he returned it with his own rueful grin, leaning in to rest their foreheads together for a moment and nuzzle her. He loved holding her so close like this. 

"I know it's scary. And you're right, the media won't be nice about it and ignoring them is never that simple. But I think... if you're ready, I am ready for this. I want to share this with you. It's something I never thought I would have. The idea of having it now is a bit like a rollercoaster in terms of terror and joy an all round adrenaline, but if you're really ready and willing to share this with me, then yes. I am so happy to. I love you so much, and we will make this work. Some things will be harder, some attitudes will change and some attitudes won't change but I know that you are not going to be any less amazing, and badass and phenomenal a CEO than you are now if we have this baby. You will have so much support. And Tony's been wanting to take a little of the weight off your shoulders for a while anyway, so I think now is the perfect time for him to step up again."

Pepper smiled, relaxation flowing through her whole body. He always knew what to say, always knew how to identify the problems and think through situations from other perspectives so that he could offer truly empathetic advice. She could feel butterflies in her stomach a little at the thought of all this, at a son or daughter, and Bruce as a stay at home father who was proud and happy to support her in her career... it was gratifying to hear that Tony wanted to take a little of the work back. The job was really one for two people anyway, and he'd matured enough to step up. Though...

She paused, and tapped Bruce gently on the nose, fire in her eyes again as his hands settled on her lower back, securing her in his lap. 

"I'm more than happy for him to step up and do more of this work. But if he threatens to go off script at one more press conference then we're either gagging him or putting Natasha on taser duty."

Bruce laughed, and she felt the joy flow through her, laughter blending with his as he leaned in to kiss her, nodding in agreement and understanding. 

"My love, I think you may have a point there. That's why you're so good at this job, after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, with 42 actual chapters and one intro, I think this is a really good place to leave this phase of Tea for Two. Fear not! I'm only breaking it here so it's not quite as terrifying for any potential new readers. I'm still planning to carry this on into a second part and maybe even beyond if you keep enjoying it quite as much as you seem to have enjoyed this part, and I still have ideas! There's so much to explore with this beautiful, broken, dysfunctional family of a team and I love them all so much.
> 
> And I'm seriously tempted to call the next one Tea for Three instead. It's so hard to resist. 
> 
> The monthly update schedule should continue for the foreseeable future, please don't forget to subscribe to the series, please keep commenting and kudosing and generally being the wonderful people you are.
> 
> P.S. My sincere apologies for the lack of tea in this chapter, I felt it had enough going for it ;)


End file.
